Death and Chaos in Court
by HotchRocks
Summary: Jack McCoy smiled at his associate, Abby Carmichael, after the 'guilty' verdict had been announced. As McCoy started stuffing papers in his briefcase, chaos erupted in the courtroom as shots rang out and struck the prosecutor. When the police investigate and are unable to solve the case, the BAU is called in to help before someone goes after McCoy again and finishes the job.
1. Chapter 1

**_Death_ a_nd Chaos in Court_**

_*******This is a Crossover between: Criminal Minds/Law & Order*******_

_**Law & Order and its characters are the property of Dick Wolf. The characters of Jacob, Malcolm and Mrs. Herlihy are mine.**_

**Chapter 1**_  
_

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?" the judge asked looking in the direction of the jury box.

'We have, your Honor," the forewoman replied, standing, and unfolding the paper held in her hands. "We find the defendant, Jacob Herlihy, guilty."

Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy and his associate, Abby Carmichael who occupied the second chair, exchanged looks and grinned. To them, it was not only a victory for the prosecution, but a cop killer was off the street.

McCoy looked back over his shoulder and nodded at Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis who were approaching the prosecution's table while the onlookers who sat in the gallery were leaving the courtroom now that the case was over and the verdict rendered.

"Nice job, Counselor," Curtis commented watching the two attorneys get to their feet. "To be honest, I didn't think you would get a conviction despite this guy having killed a cop. There wasn't really much evidence proving it."

"I'm more than just a handsome face, Detective," McCoy replied with a grin. "Also, Abby and I know how to prosecute a case," he added sarcastically but with a touch of humor. He began shoveling papers into his briefcase.

Briscoe chuckled. "Regardless, scratch one cop killer," he said. "I feel like celebrating. Anybody care to join me for a celebratory glass of club soda?" he asked. "I'm buying." Being a recovering alcoholic, Briscoe had been sober for at least twelve years. But he never forbid anybody else from enjoying alcohol when they were out with him.

"Maybe next time," McCoy said as he grabbed his briefcase. It was then that all hell broke loose when gunfire erupted. As people ducked or ran for cover, Curtis and Briscoe immediately drew their weapons and began squeezing through the screaming mob of panic-stricken people all fighting to get away from the gunfire.

Abby dropped to her knees behind the table as McCoy fell hard against it before he hit the floor landing on his back beside her, his briefcase on its side next to him. She saw blood running down the side of his head and feared he had been shot in the head. It was then she spotted blood pooling beneath him, and realized he had been hit at least twice. She crept forward, gently pressed two fingers against his throat, and breathed a sigh of relief at finding a heartbeat, although weak and thready. His breathing was shallow.

"Jack?!" she called as she shook his shoulder and getting no response. "Jack!" Abby shook his shoulder a second time and again got no response.

So oblivious to the goings on around her, Abby hadn't realized the gunfire had stopped until she became aware of Briscoe kneeling beside her.

"Is he alive?" he asked while holstering his weapon, worry evident in his voice and on his face.

"Why doesn't he open his eyes, Lennie?" she answered in a thick voice, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why doesn't….?" She couldn't finish.

"Hey…" Briscoe gently touched her arm. "Look at me. McCoy's tough. He'll make it through this and be all right."

The ADA looked up when she noticed Curtis's presence. The younger man knelt beside his partner.

"I called for an ambulance before I came back in here," he said. "They should be here in a few minutes. How is he?"

"He's alive but just barely," Lennie explained grimly. He gestured with his head toward the open courtroom doors. "Anything?"

Curtis was grim. "There was no sign of any shooter or shooters. And nobody was carrying a weapon on 'em except security," he explained. "But I have security keep everybody who was in the courtroom in the hall until we can question them individually. Nobody's being allowed to leave." Abby stared at the young detective as two EMTs hurried towards them.

* * *

In the ICU, Adam Schiff sat in the hard, uncomfortable, plastic chair beside the bed on which McCoy lay, unconscious, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. He was hooked up to a heart monitor with IV wires running everywhere. There was also a pressure bandage wrapped around his head, a small bloodstain visible on his temple. He was extremely pale from blood loss and lay still, eyes closed.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the continuous beeping of the heart monitor, Schiff would've believed McCoy dead.

His sad eyes studied the face of the man he considered a son despite not being related by blood. He didn't react when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"He'll be all right, Adam," said Carmichael standing just behind him. She had accompanied McCoy to the hospital, and called District Attorney Adam Schiff after Jack had been rushed into surgery.

"Will he?" Schiff replied, eyes fixated on Jack. "Right now the doctors can't promise that. They can't even promise he'll survive." He gripped the younger man's hand and gently squeezed it. "I'd feel better about things if he would at least open his eyes and say something. Tell me to stop hovering over him."

"So would I," Abby said softly as she stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes now focused on Schiff. "But until that happens, we can at least take solace in knowing that he wasn't shot in the head."

Schiff's eyes looked up at Carmichael briefly. "Small comfort," he muttered. "He was shot in the back and is in a coma. And according to the doctors, the bullet nicked his spinal cord. He's paralyzed from the waist down. Whether it's temporary or permanent they don't know yet. They also don't know if he'll survive. He could die without ever regaining consciousness." His eyes hardened. "I want this bastard arrested and prosecuted. We don't rest until this creep is strapped to a gurney with a needle in his arm. Do I make myself clear?" He maintained his harsh glare.

Abby didn't respond as she knew there would be no arguing with Schiff regarding this situation. "I'm going to head to the 27th Precinct and speak with Lt. Van Buren and see if there's anything new." She got to her feet. "Any messages?"

Schiff's eyes went back to McCoy's still form. "Yes." His eyes misted over and his lower lip quivered. "Tell them to say a prayer."

* * *

Lt. Anita Van Buren, head of the detective squad at the 27th Precinct, stood behind her desk in her office with arms folded across her chest. She stared at her two best men; senior detective Lennie Briscoe and his junior partner Reynaldo aka Rey Curtis.

"You're telling me that _nobody_ saw anything before or after the shooting?"

"We spoke with everybody who was there, L.T.," Briscoe explained. "Nobody saw anything before or after. Or if they did, nobody admitted to it."

"Besides questioning everybody who was present in the courtroom, we also spoke with the Defense Attorneys, the Court Stenographer, members of the jury, the alternate jurors, even the judge presiding over the case," Curtis added. "Nobody heard anything or saw anybody with a gun. It's like the shooter vanished into thin air."

Van Buren shook her head, frustrated. "Nobody just _vanishes_ in thin air." Her eyes narrowed into thin slits as a thought came to her. "Did anybody in the courtroom have a connection to the defendant, Jacob Herlihy? Maybe someone didn't like the guilty verdict?"

"We thought so too," Briscoe said. "Turns out Herlihy's son, Malcolm, was there. He believed 'dear old dad' was innocent, and threatened to get McCoy more than once. Claimed the counselor hid evidence that would've exonerated his dad. Other than the son, nobody else stands out."

"Does he have an alibi for the time of the shooting?"

"Not unless you count being on his cell phone in the hallway outside the courtroom talking to mommy dearest at the time as an alibi," added Lennie.

Van Buren nodded as the information ran through her mind as she imagined the phone call between mother and son.

"'_Hello, mom…just wanted to call and tell you the job's done. I killed Jack McCoy.'"_

"What about his mother? From what I remember, she also held a grudge against McCoy as well."

"True," Curtis replied. "According to sonny-boy, mom was there throughout the trial, but was too upset to hear the verdict so she left right after closing arguments and went home."

"Any proof she actually left the courthouse and returned home?"

"Not yet," Briscoe said. "Of course she could have hung around until after receiving the phone call from her son telling her the job was done, and then went home."

Van Buren sat on the edge of her desk. "Not that I'm defending either of them," she said. "But why wait until _after_ the verdict is delivered to shoot the prosecuting attorney? Why not before the trial begins? That would have, at least, delayed the trial a bit. Seems to me if they wanted to stop McCoy the best way would be to produce evidence that would have proven dear old dad innocent."

Lennie and Curtis exchanged looks. "Maybe they figured this way was quicker," Curtis said. "This way if it ended in a mistrial, McCoy wouldn't be able to retry Herlihy."

"Quicker but not necessarily smarter if you ask me. Look, considering how quickly this thing went down, McCoy's shooting appears to have been planned."

But before anybody could say anything more, the door of Van Buren's office opened and Abby Carmichael walked in, closing the door behind her. The trio looked at her with sympathy in their eyes. The Assistant DA looked stressed out and emotional.

"Abby, we are so, so sorry," Van Buren said sincerely. "How are you? Are you all right?"

"I'm okay physically. Still a bit shaken after what happened."

"That's understandable. How's McCoy?"

Carmichael let out a deep breath. "Not good. He lost a lot of blood and is in a coma. The doctors aren't sure when, or even _if_, he'll wake up, or whether he'll die without regaining consciousness. Right now his chances of survival are at best 50-50. The only good news is that he didn't get shot in the head. Looks like he struck his head on the table after he'd been shot. But the bullet to his lower back nicked his spinal cord." She paused and swallowed hard. "If he survives, he could be permanently paralyzed from the waist down. The doctors won't know for certain until the swelling goes down. Right now it's pretty much touch and go."

There were collected gasps from Briscoe, Curtis, and Van Buren as the information sank in. Despite having had their problems with McCoy over the occasional case, they considered the attorney a good and close friend.

Van Buren was horrified. Everybody knew McCoy as a workaholic and a constant bundle of energy. To have him die would be difficult enough to accept, but to have him survive and be permanently paralyzed was not something she and the officers of the 27th could fathom. "Is there anything we can do in the meanwhile?" she asked.

"Pray," Abby said.

"We've been doing that since this happened."

Abby sighed. "Thanks. Where are you regarding the investigation?"

The detectives repeated what they had told their boss minutes earlier.

"Don't let up on Herlihy," Carmichael said. "Right now he and his mother are the only links we have to what happened."

"That's the plan," said Van Buren. "We're not overlooking anything. But there is one thing you can do to help with the investigation."

"Which is?"

"We need to check McCoy's convictions since he's been with the DA's office. Somebody other than Herlihy's wife and kid could have done this."

Carmichael sighed. "He's sent a lot of people to prison. We're talking about _a lot_ of suspects."

Van Buren understood. "I know. But as I said, we're not overlooking anything."

"I'll make sure you get it. Also, if you need extra help, let me know. We can let you have about twelve investigators from the office to help as volunteers at no charge to the police department. Mr. Schiff wants this person found and arrested and isn't going to be patient."

Van Buren sat down behind her desk. "Understood. And if we need help I'll call you. But right now just get us those files."

"Will do. And both Mr. Schiff and I wish to be kept informed morning and evening."

"You got it."

Abby opened the door and started to leave.

"Give the counselor our best," Lennie advised quietly.

"I will."

"Lennie and I will visit when we have a chance," Curtis added.

"He'd like that," Abby said with a small smile. She exited the office leaving the three cops alone. Lennie let out a deep breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"My God," Briscoe muttered with a head shake. "In the beginning I had no idea McCoy was injured that badly. I thought maybe he had just hit his head on the table when he went down."

"I don't think any of us did," Van Buren added. "Makes it all the more imperative that we find this bastard and the sooner the better."

Curtis ran a hand over his dark hair. "Right now it's only attempted murder. I pray it doesn't become murder by the time we find this guy."

It was a thought that ran through everybody's mind and nobody wanted to say out loud.

* * *

After they left the precinct, Briscoe and Curtis drove from Manhattan to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. On Van Buren's orders, they were going to question Malcolm Herlihy and his mother again. It was agreed these two were the prime suspects into the attempted murder of Jack McCoy.

The car ride was silent as both detectives were lost in their own thoughts. Being a cop brought with it the knowledge that sometimes one had to investigate a crime involving somebody you knew or at least were familiar with. But this case was different to them. This case struck at their very core.

Jack McCoy was more than just a District Attorney to the police. He not only prosecuted the suspects they arrested, but did all he could to make sure the guilty never saw the light of day. Also, he was a very close friend who did his job and didn't deserve what was done to him because of it. And to be shot in the back made it ten times worse. It was a coward's way.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, Briscoe eased the car around the corner and continued down the street. He knew they were nearing their destination.

"I'm tellin' you something right now, Rey," he said coldly, eyes straight ahead. "If Herlihy shot the counselor, I can't promise he'll make it to trial."

Curtis glanced sideways then looked straight ahead again. "I understand how you feel, I really do, because I feel the same way. But McCoy wouldn't want that. Even if he dies, he'd still want this guy strapped to a gurney with a needle in his arm, and you know it. He wouldn't want you to destroy your career because of him."

Briscoe let out a deep breath. "I know, I know. But I keep seeing McCoy laying on the floor in the courtroom, and I have to wonder if it's worth it to take Herlihy alive. Why not just end him right now and call it a day. Nobody need ever know."

"And just what are you gonna do if he lives with his mother? You gonna off her too?"

Briscoe swallowed hard. "Okay, you made your point." He parked the car outside the address of their suspect and sat in the car for a few minutes.

"We gotta play this by the rules, Lennie," Curtis said. "McCoy wouldn't want it any other way. We owe it to 'im to do it by the book." He opened the front passenger-side door.

"What can I say," Lennie replied as he exited the driver's side. "When you're right, you're right. But just to make sure, if Malcolm gets out-of-hand, you handle 'im. I wouldn't trust myself."

That said, the two detectives mounted the stairs and Briscoe pressed the door buzzer, and they waited.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I should have added this at the beginning of chapter 1, but I forgot, so here it is. This is a Crossover between the original Law & Order and Criminal Minds. The 1st part will concentrate on Law & Order; the 2nd part on Criminal Minds; and the 3rd part will mesh these two fics together.**

**Chapter 2**

Briscoe started to ring the doorbell a second time when the door opened, and the two detectives found themselves face-to-face with Malcolm Herlihy. The man was tall and lanky, with dirty-blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. He wore a tee-shirt and worn blue jeans. He stood barring the doorway so the detectives couldn't enter the residence.

"Malcolm Herlihy, we need to ask you some questions," said Curtis as he and Lennie showed their badges. "May we come in?"

He looked both Briscoe and Curtis up-and-down with disgust. "You're the two bastards who lied on the witness stand about my father. You should've been shot same as McCoy."

Both detectives paused having been caught off guard by the man's comment. Curtis pursed his lips. "Regardless as to how you feel about us, we really need to ask you several questions about what happened in the courthouse," he said controlling his temper.

"We can talk right here," Herlihy sneered.

"Is your mother home? We'd prefer to speak with both of you at the same time about what happened earlier this afternoon," Briscoe said.

"She's upstairs resting," Herlihy replied not moving an inch. "And I refuse to disturb her." "This is about that bastard, Jack McCoy, ain't it?" he hissed.

Briscoe sighed. He didn't need this. But he struggled to keep his emotions under wraps. He had promised he would do things by the book, but he couldn't really make any promises like he agreed. Not to himself, not to Curtis, or even McCoy for that matter. Not right now anyway.

"So you heard McCoy was shot right after the verdict was delivered. We need to know where you and your mother were when the verdict was announced."

"What for? That bastard got exactly what he deserved. I hope he rots in hell!"

"Then whoever shot 'im should've had better aim, Malcolm," said Briscoe, his self-control weakening. "McCoy's still alive."

Although both detectives wouldn't be able to swear to it if asked, they thought they saw Herlihy's body stiffen at hearing their news.

"So we're gonna ask again, Malcolm," said Lennie. "Where were you and your mother after the verdict was announced?"

Herlihy's face turned a deep crimson. "You cops are all alike. My dad gets convicted by McCoy who then gets himself blasted, and you automatically come running after me and my mother. Well I got news for both of you…it wasn't either of us."

"You both threatened McCoy regarding your father's upcoming trial," Curtis added.

"That's because he can't stand to lose! Convicting my dad was just another notch on his belt. My dad's innocent!"

"And why should we take your word for it that neither you or your mother didn't shoot him after the verdict was announced?" asked Curtis.

Herlihy smirked at the detectives in a way which sent chills down their spines. "If it _had _been either of us, I guarantee you that bastard wouldn't be alive. He'd be in the morgue with the back of his head blown away. In fact, he still might."

Briscoe and Curtis glanced at each other before turning their attention back to Herlihy.

"Sounds like you're threatening McCoy's life right now," Rey accused.

Herlihy smirked. "Take it any way you wish."

"We want you to listen carefully, Malcolm," Briscoe jabbed a forefinger into Herlihy's chest. "And you can pass the word to mommy dearest. If anything more happens to the counselor, we're gonna come back here again and you're not gonna like it if we do."

"Y'know what? _Go to hell!_" Herlihy slammed the door shut in their faces.

Lennie sighed as he and Curtis turned and headed back down the stairs and back to their car.

"That went well," the senior detective smirked. He got behind the steering wheel.

"I'm tellin you, Lennie, I can't believe he threatened McCoy's life right in front of us."

"I can't either. And we don't have anything to justify arresting Herlihy at the moment despite his words. Contact Van Buren. Double-check and make sure guards are posted outside McCoy's hospital room. Better to be safe than sorry in case there's another attempt on the counselor."

Rey removed his cellphone, scrolled down his list, and pressed 'speed dial' when he reached the lieutenant's number. He looked at his partner.

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked, listening to the phone ring on the other end.

"Well, McCoy had surgery to remove the bullet from his back earlier. Maybe Forensics has been able to match it by now." He started the car.

* * *

Abby Carmichael sat in her office going over the case file of the case she and McCoy had prosecuted when the shooting took place. She was hoping to find something, anything, which might tie Malcolm Herlihy or his mother directly to the shooting. As she read through the witness statements, she found her mind wandering.

_She and Jack were busy shoveling papers into their briefcases when she noticed Briscoe and Curtis approach from the gallery. They had helped convict a cop killer, and for that she and McCoy were grateful since their testimonies were crucial in a case in which evidence had been in short supply. They provided all the proof McCoy needed to make his case to the jury in order to convict Jacob Herlihy of killing a cop. It was their testimonies that more than made up for the lack of evidence in a circumstantial case. _

_Then the gunfire started. She dropped to her knees behind the prosecution's table, and kept low. For a brief moment she forgot everything, everybody, and concentrated on simply staying alive. She moved a loose strand of long black hair out of her face and put it behind her ear. Then moments later she heard the sound of something striking the floor hard. Daring to look around, her breath caught in her throat as she saw Jack McCoy sprawled on his back on the floor, his briefcase on its side beside him, blood spatter on it. He wasn't moving and didn't appear to be breathing._

_For a moment she was paralyzed with fear. Paralyzed that her boss and friend was lying dead near her. She had never seen a dead body up close before, and especially not that of someone she knew. There was a thin line of blood running down his temple and blood pooling around his body. Abby didn't know what she would do if the worst had happened. But who was she fooling? To her the worst had already happened. Jack McCoy had probably died in front of her._

_It was then she realized the gunfire had ceased and all was quiet. It was also then she realized what she thought true was not._

"Miss Carmichael!" someone called out rousting her from her reverie. She looked around to see who had called her name and spotted two detectives from the 27th Precinct standing in the doorway of her office.

"Wha…Profaci?"

"You all right, counselor?" the young detective asked hesitantly. "Sorry if I startled you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Abby apologized although it didn't sound convincing. She slowly got to her feet. "I'm just a bit stressed right now is all. Things have been somewhat crazy around here."

"I understand."

Tony Profaci looked at the female ADA with compassion. Everybody in the 27th Precinct had heard of the shooting in the courthouse at 100 Centre Street and were anxious to help in any way. He gestured at the blond man standing next to him.

"This is Detective Muller. Van Buren sent us here to collect the files of McCoy's past cases if you've got them ready for us."

"Right. Come with me," Abby said and led the way to the EADA's office. (1) She opened the door to the office and pointed to the ten boxes on the desk. "This is everything except the case Jack and I had prosecuted in court earlier. I'm looking through it myself to see if anything pops up. But you guys can start by going through these. These are all the cases Jack has prosecuted since he's been here."

Profaci whistled. "There's a lot of files to go through."

Abby shrugged. "He's been with the DA's office for over twenty years so there's a lot of possible suspects." She let out a deep breath. "All I ask is that if you find anything you don't remove it from this office without informing me first."

"No problem," Muller promised as he and Profaci each pulled up a chair and began to go through the first box. Leaving them alone, Abby stood in the doorway of McCoy's office, glancing back at the two detectives for a split second, then left the room, closing the door behind her. Standing silently outside the door, she allowed her mind to drift back to the hospital and wonder what was happening with McCoy. Of course, having heard nothing from Schiff, she suspected there probably hadn't been any change. But still, she'd rather be there instead of at One Hogan Place looking through case files for suspects even though she was well aware of how important it was that they find the responsible party who had attempted to murder the lead prosecutor.

Letting out a deep breath, Abby struggled to regain control of her rampaging emotions when she spotted Schiff's receptionist approaching out of the corner of her eye.

"What can I do for you, Theresa?" she asked the blonde.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Miss Carmichael, but Mr. Schiff is on line one. He says it's urgent."

Feeling panic beginning to rise in her chest, Abby hurried back to her own office and grabbed the receiver of her phone, pressing '1' on the base to access the call. She put the receiver to her ear.

"Adam, it's Abby. What's wrong? What happened? Is it Jack?"

As she listened to Schiff, her eyes misted over and her lower lip quivered. She covered her mouth with her free hand and didn't hear what else had been said. She slowly replaced the receiver on its base and let the tears she fought to control roll down her cheeks.

* * *

Adam Schiff hung up the receiver of the phone sitting on the counter of the nurses' station, blew out a deep breath, then ran both hands down his haggard face. He was completely drained emotionally, but knew he had to remain strong. Especially now.

"Mr. Schiff?"

Adam looked around and saw the nurse who had given him permission to use the telephone at the nurses' station looking at him with sympathy.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Nurse uh…I forgot your name."

"It's Daniels. Nurse Heather Daniels."

"Thank you for letting me use the phone, Nurse Daniels," Adam said. "I had to contact one of my employees and update her on Mr. McCoy's condition." He sighed wearily. "Is the doctor sure about what happened?" He was hoping he had been misinformed or had heard wrong.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schiff," Heather said. "But what Doctor Asperger told you is correct, I'm afraid. Mr. McCoy has developed pneumonia which is not good given his current condition. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Schiff commented stuffing both hands in the pockets of his trousers. "It's the fault of the bastard who put him here. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to his room and sit with him. I don't want him to be alone if he should wake up." Without another word, he turned away and walked back in the direction of McCoy's room, shoulders slightly hunched forward, staring at the floor.

Heather watched him walk away and felt pity for the older man. It was obvious to anyone who saw him that he was extremely concerned about their patient and refused to leave his side. She had never seen such devotion in someone for a person they weren't related to by blood.

Schiff slowly pushed open the door to McCoy's room and stood in the doorway. He watched the nurse in the room insert the needle of the new IV into the crook of her patient's arm and secure it with a bandage. She glanced over her shoulder having heard the door open, and smiled politely at Schiff whose eyes were fixated on the patient.

"It's all right, sir," she explained as she approached the older man. "It's just antibiotics to help combat the pneumonia. The doctor believes it was caught early."

Schiff grunted, his eyes never leaving the younger man.

"Thank you. Now if you don't mind, I want to sit with him for a while." He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he walked further into the room, moved the plastic chair closer to the bed, and sat down in it. He again clasped the younger man's hand in his and squeezed it gently. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, Jack. It's time you got off your ass and get out of this bed. This bed is for sick people. And although you drive me crazy with your feistiness and drive when you're prosecuting a defendant, that doesn't make you sick. It just makes you damn good at your job. Also, I'd miss you if you weren't around."

His lower lip quivered when there was no reaction from McCoy to his hand being gripped by the older man. Adam bent his head and rubbed his eyes using the thumb and forefinger of his free hand to keep the moisture gathering in his eyes from falling.

He hadn't cried since he had taken his wife off life-support about fourteen years ago after she had suffered a massive stroke and lapsed into a coma. (2) He couldn't believe this was happening. He had expected he, Carmichael, and McCoy would've been celebrating the conviction of Jacob Herlihy following a difficult two-week trial. Instead, McCoy gets shot in the courthouse following the trial, is fighting for his life in a hospital, and might end up paralyzed from the waist down _if _he survives. And to add to his problems, McCoy had developed pneumonia.

In Adam's opinion, this was too much for an old man like himself to handle.

With a sigh, he thought back to the Herlihy trial and hoped to figure out if Malcolm Herlihy or his mother had shot Jack McCoy, and if they did…why? To him it made no sense for it to happen _after_ the verdict had been read. It also made no sense for Jack to have been shot at all. From what he recalled of the case, McCoy had had very little evidence proving Jacob Herlihy's guilt. But it was the testimony of both Briscoe and Curtis that provided all the evidence the prosecutor needed to convict the man for the murder of a police officer. It made more sense to go after them. Without them, there would have had little to no evidence against the man.

But choosing to go after Schiff's lead prosecutor instead meant only one thing to the older man. McCoy's shooting had to be personal and nothing to do with the case.

But could it be proven? And if it turned out not to be either of the Herlihys, than who was responsible?

* * *

(1) EADA is the abbreviation for Executive Assistant District Attorney which is McCoy's title.

(2)The story line with Adam Schiff's wife suffering a massive stroke and going on life-support and removed later is from the episode TERMINAL, season 7. And as far as the length of time, the death of his wife happened in 1997. So I went from then to the day L&O ended in 2010. Hope this makes sense.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Briscoe pushed open the door of the Forensics lab and he and Curtis walked inside.

"I hope forensics can give us something we can use so we can get this guy," said Curtis glancing around the room.

"You're not the only one." Briscoe muttered. He spotted Larry Weiner, the head lab technician, coming toward them. They shook hands. "Hey, Larry."

"Lennie," Weiner said. "Good to see you, but I wish it were under better circumstances." He glanced at Curtis. "Who's your friend?"

"This is my partner, Rey Curtis. Rey, meet Larry Weiner."

Curtis and Weiner shook hands.

"Got any good news for us?" the younger detective asked.

"I think so." Weiner led the way to his corner of the lab where a metal tray stood. He peered over his shoulder at Briscoe. "Am I correct when I say I heard that the gun and glove liners were found in a trash can in the hallway outside the courtroom where the shooting took place?" (1)

"You heard correctly," said Lennie.

With a sigh, the technician held up a clear evidence bag containing the gun. "As far as the gun goes, there was only one set of prints on it, and they were so badly smudged as to be useless. But it wasn't a complete loss."

"How so?" asked Lennie.

"I was able to make out the serial number on the weapon."

"And?"

"And it turns out the gun is registered to Officer Andrew Sampler, NYPD."

Briscoe and Curtis exchanged puzzled looks. They hadn't expected this news.

"_Andy_ Sampler?" said Briscoe. "The same Andy Sampler that Jacob Herlihy was convicted of killing?"

"One and the same."

"And the glove liners?"

"Nothing."

"How about the bullet? Any luck there?" asked Rey.

"I was just coming to that," the technician began. "And just out of curiosity, is it true this slug was dug out of Jack McCoy?"

"Unfortunately true. Fortunately he's still alive."

Weiner held up another clear bag, smaller in size, with a bullet in it.

"You're looking at a .9 mm cartridge. It was fired from a Glock 17 from a magazine which normally holds about 15 rounds."

"So you're telling us this bullet was fired by a law enforcement weapon?" Curtis asked, stunned.

"That puts an unfortunate twist on things," Briscoe remarked sarcastically. This information caused unpleasant thoughts to run through his mind.

"I notice the head of the bullet is crushed," remarked Curtis.

"Good eye, detective," Weiner remarked. "The bullet was damaged because after striking the victim in the back, it struck the spinal column. Other than that, there's nothing else I can tell you." He dropped the bag containing the bullet on the tray.

"Thanks, Larry." The two detectives left the lab.

* * *

"A Glock 17," Curtis repeated with a shake of his head. "Lennie, do you think it's possible we might be wrong and that a cop actually shot McCoy?" He stared at his partner.

Briscoe let out a deep breath. "I really don't know," he answered solemnly. "But the counselor's made a lot of enemies during his career." He pressed the button for an 'up' elevator.

"It's just hard imagining a cop being responsible for what happened."

"I know what you mean. But the counselor's convicted a lot of officers."(2)

The two plainclothes cops stepped into the elevator and the doors hissed shut. The car began its slow journey upward.

"By the way, did you manage to make contact with L.T.," Lennie asked with a sideward glance.

"Yeah I did. Two uniforms have been posted outside McCoy's room. There's no way Herlihy or his mother can make another attempt to get to 'im."

Lennie pursed his lips as he stared at his partner. "That's a good thing unless of course it's a member of law enforcement who's behind the shooting." Curtis had no response to the comment and remained quiet. When the doors hissed open, they stepped out and made their way to Van Buren's office where they spotted the lieutenant seated behind her desk. The female ADA was seated in a chair facing the lieutenant's desk. Both women stopped talking and looked up when the detectives entered their superior's office with Curtis closing the door to allow privacy.

Both men sensed the tension in the room.

"I suspect we walked in on something, Rey," said Briscoe glancing at his partner. He then glanced back-and-forth between Van Buren and Carmichael. "What is it? Is it McCoy?"

Van Buren pyramided her fingers in front of her face, elbows on the desk. "Miss Carmichael has some news about the counselor and decided to deliver it in person instead of by telephone. She's also hoping for an update on the investigation."

A wave of fear permeated Briscoe's body. "What happened?"

Abby pursed her lips. "Mr. Schiff called from the hospital a short time ago. It seems Jack has developed pneumonia, and in his weakened condition that could be fatal."

"We're so sorry to hear that," said Van Buren with a sad shake of her head.

"Thank you."

The lieutenant turned her attention to her detectives as if suddenly remembering they were present. "What about Herlihy and his mother? You find out anything?"

"Not much," Briscoe replied. "We spoke with Malcolm Herlihy who refused to let us speak with his mother. And as we expected, he denied either he or his mother shot McCoy."

"I went through Jacob Herlihy's case file again," Abby explained. "Nothing new showed up. Everything points to either him or his mother."

"But before he slammed the door in our faces, he did threaten McCoy's life again," said Curtis. "But what was strange was that when Lennie and I mentioned McCoy was still alive, he was surprised. Now if he or his mother did the shooting, I can't see it being a surprise. Also, I think they would have made sure McCoy was dead."

"I agree," Lennie said. "He did tell us if he or his mother _had_ done the shooting, they would have, and I quote, 'blown the back of McCoy's head off.'"

Abby grimaced at hearing how close her boss and friend had come to instant death. She and Van Buren eyed each other as they digested this information.

"Did forensics have anything to say?" Abby asked.

Lennie let out a deep breath. "That's where things become weird. Forensics says the bullet was fired by a Glock 17."

"A Glock 17?" asked Van Buren with wide eyes. "Are they sure?"

"Positive."

The ADA stared at the police lieutenant. The possible weapon of choice made no sense unless….

"That weapon is law enforcement issue," Van Buren said, worried. "Is it possible Herlihy somehow got his hands on one?"

"Unless it wasn't Herlihy who fired the near fatal shot," Carmichael answered. "I'm sorry, lieutenant, but members of law enforcement must be considered suspects as well."

"I agree unfortunately," the lieutenant said with a groan. "McCoy's prosecuted around two hundred individual police officers for breaking the law in his twenty-plus years in the DA's office. I'm sure he's made enemies within the department."

"Any prints on the gun?" asked Abby.

"The only prints on the gun were badly smudged and useless," said Curtis. "The perp used glove liners to avoid leaving prints on the weapon other than the smudged ones. So forensics searched the weapon using the serial number. The gun shows as being registered to Officer Andrew Sampler. The same officer who was shot and killed by Herlihy."

"Sampler was shot with his own gun?" asked Carmichael, stunned.

"And it gets even weirder," Briscoe said. "We checked and it seems Sampler reported his weapon stolen about ten days ago when his home was broken into."

"Did you check the courthouse video cameras?" asked Abby. "Courthouses don't allow cameras inside the courtrooms, but they do have cameras in the hallway to film people entering and leaving the building. There are also security guards searching people who enter the courthouse to watch a trial. And with all the police presence during the Herlihy trial, somebody must have seen the shooter," Abby explained. "Did the video capture anything useful?"

Briscoe sighed. "The video was one of the first things we checked after McCoy was taken to the hospital," he replied. "The video for the entire courthouse was erased."

"What do you mean 'erased'?" asked Carmichael.

"Exactly that," Lennie said. "There was no recording of anything on that video. So that can only mean one thing…"

"There was a second person involved in McCoy's attack," Van Buren added completing Briscoe's train of thought. "The shooter couldn't erase the video feed into the courthouse and shoot McCoy at the same time. You would need at least two people to pull this off."

"Yeah," Briscoe smirked. "One person to disrupt the video feed while his associate shoots the counselor."

Curtis folded his arms. "And whoever the shooter is, he disposed of the gun and glove liners in the trash can outside the courtroom knowing that the liners don't hold prints, and when we checked the gun it would show belonging to a dead police officer. It's brilliant."

"Check into this break-in of Sampler's house and find out if anything besides the Glock was stolen," the lieutenant suggested.

Both detectives exchanged glances, then headed out the door to carry out their assignment leaving Abby and Van Buren alone. The female lawyer slowly got out of her chair. "I want to visit the hospital before I return to One Hogan Place," she said. "I need to not only check on McCoy, but update and check on Mr. Schiff. He's refused to leave Jack's side from the moment he was brought into the hospital."

Van Buren shook her head sadly. "It's gotta be rough on Schiff," she admitted. "First he loses Ben Stone when he resigned suddenly. (3) Then McCoy is unexpectedly shot."

"I know. Between you and me, Anita, I don't know how much more Mr. Schiff can take. And if Jack should die, I don't even want to think what effect it'll have on him."

* * *

(1) Glove liners are thin, and are worn inside heavier gloves. They also leave no prints.

(2) In Season 18, an episode called ILLEGAL, McCoy was said to have convicted around 200 individual police officers.

(3) EADA Ben Stone's resignation was in the final episode of Season 4 called OLD FRIENDS. He was replaced by Jack McCoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Briscoe drove through the east side of Manhattan as they headed to Andrew Sampler's home. Curtis, arms folded across his chest, stared out the open window at the passing scenery. Neither man had uttered hardly a word since they had left the precinct, each absorbed in his own thoughts.

The younger detective let out a deep breath and glanced at his partner.

"So what d'ya think, Lennie? Still think Herlihy or his mother is the shooter?"

Lennie kept his eyes glued to the road ahead and chose not to respond. To him, it was easier to accept Herlihy or his mother as the shooter because to think otherwise was unfathomable.

"Lennie? You heard what I said?"

Briscoe still kept his eyes straight ahead. "Yeah, I heard you, Rey," he said quietly. "Right now I don't know what to think. What was it L.T. said? McCoy has enemies within the department because he's convicted cops."

Rey looked at his partner. "So what are you saying? That he _deserved_ what happened to him because he prosecuted cops?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all. Don't go putting words in my mouth." Briscoe felt his temper rising.

"I'm not," Curtis kept calm. "Look, all I'm saying is he's not only a good friend, but a damn fine attorney who prosecutes those who deserve to be prosecuted. And just because some of those people might be cops makes no difference to him. Don't forget, his old man was a cop."

Briscoe sighed as he steered the car around a corner. "I know that. And from what we know of McCoy, he's never prosecuted anybody, cop or not, who didn't deserve to be prosecuted."

"Exactly. And because he's prosecuted cops doesn't mean he deserved what was done to him, and you know that."

"Nobody deserves what was done to McCoy just for doing their job." Briscoe glanced at his partner expression softening. "I'm sorry for sounding like a bastard, Rey. I guess I'm just having problems wrapping my head around believing a cop did this and if he did, why he did it."

"If it was a cop who shot McCoy, why do you think he did it?" asked Curtis.

"You said it yourself," said Briscoe. "He's prosecuted a lot of cops, and as L.T. told us, the counselor has enemies within the department because of it."

* * *

Abby Carmichael walked inside the hospital and approached the nurses' station. She spotted a perky blonde, her name-tag reading Haylee, behind the nurses' desk. The nurse caught Abby's attention.

"Can I help you, Miss Carmichael?" she asked having dealt with the female ADA since McCoy had been admitted. She smiled politely.

"I just want to know if there's been any change in Mr. McCoy's condition from earlier today. I heard from Mr. Schiff that he's developed pneumonia."

"You were told correct," she said. "Mr. McCoy's very ill. And with the seriousness of his injury, his chance of survival is less than fifty percent right now." She saw Abby's face fall and felt for the woman. "I'm sorry I don't have better news to give you."

"That's all right," Abby answered, obviously shaken. "Is it okay if I visit him?"

Haylee smiled. "Sure, go ahead. You'll probably find Mr. Schiff there as well." She lowered her voice so that Abby had to stand closer to hear her. "Poor man. He hasn't left Mr. McCoy's side since he was brought in."

"Thank you." Abby walked away and in the direction of the ICU. When she reached McCoy's room, she stood outside for a few moments to get control of her rampaging emotions. After about three minutes, she let out a deep breath and pushed open the door. She paused in the doorway and took in the scene before her.

Adam Schiff was seated in the plastic chair beside McCoy's bed, clutching the man's hand, eyes fixated on the man's face. She quietly approached Schiff from behind until she stood directly behind the chair and rested a hand on his shoulder, careful not to upset or alarm him. The older man glanced back over his shoulder, the corners of his mouth slightly curled upward. But she could see the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Adam? I spoke with a nurse at the nurses' desk. She said Jack's condition isn't good by any means. In fact, him getting pneumonia in his weakened condition makes it worse. But you've been with him since he's been here, and I want to hear your opinion. What do you think?"

Schiff let out a deep breath and turned his face forward. His eyes took in the wires connected to all the IVs and the heart monitor. Lastly, his eyes studied the bag hanging from the pole beside the bed, then the tubing, and the needle inserted into the crook of Jack's elbow and covered by tape. Then, his eyes landed on McCoy's face and stayed there.

"You want to know what I think, Miss Carmichael," Schiff muttered partially to himself. "I think we're gonna lose him and it's just a matter of time." His lower lip quivered and he swallowed the growing lump in his throat.

Abby's eyes shifted until she found herself staring at her unconscious boss, watched the ventilator breath for him, and the rise and fall of his chest signaling he was still alive. She stepped around the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Schiff.

"Adam, we need to keep the faith that Jack will pull through."

The older man chuckled. "Keep the faith," he muttered. "Right now we need more than faith; we need a miracle."

Abby put a hand on the older man's knee.

"I believe we're going to get that miracle. He will get better." She grinned. "He'll probably want to get out of this bed and prosecute the creep who shot him himself."

The older man raised his head and looked at his subordinate; a small grin on his face. "You're probably right." But the grin faded as quickly as it appeared. "But if he doesn't make it, I'm going to need you to promise me you'll prosecute the bastard."

Carmichael's eyes hardened. "You have my word on that, sir."

"Good. Now, is there something you want to talk to me about?"

Abby stiffened and there was a look of surprise on his face. "How did you…?"

"Just a feeling I have. What is it?"

Carmichael updated the District Attorney on the latest involving the investigation. When she finished, she waited for his response.

Schiff stared at the woman, a stunned look on his face. "Are you telling me that McCoy may have been shot by a _cop_ and not the son or wife of Jacob Herlihy?"

"That's what it looks like. The weapon was a law enforcement issue Glock 17. Police identified the weapon as belonging to Officer Andrew Sampler which had been reported stolen about ten days before Sampler was killed."

Adam felt a headache coming on and massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger. _"Can't anything just be simple?!" _There was anger in his voice. "_Why must things be so damn complicated with this shooting!?"_

Carmichael licked her lips before she told the older man the worse part.

"I'm afraid there's more, sir. We may have two people involved in the attack on Jack."

"Two people?"

"Yes, sir. It seems that the video tape for the entire courthouse was deleted, so there's no way to identify who shot Jack from the tape. Also, there's no way someone could shoot him and delete the video at the same time. Therefore, the police now believe that there were two people involved. There are two detectives from the 27th Precinct right now going through all of Jack's case files since he's been with the District Attorney's office hoping something will show up. But there's a lot of cases."

"Wonderful," Schiff said sarcastically. "Somebody steals a cop's gun, kills the cop from whom he stole the gun with his own gun, then shoots McCoy with the same gun while his partner erases the video servicing the entire courthouse. And to top it off, the gun is dumped in the trash inside the courthouse because he knows when it's traced it'll show it was owned by the cop he killed. This just keeps getting better and better."

* * *

"This looks like the place," Briscoe said as he parked outside a red brick house. As he got out of the front passenger-side, Curtis noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

'Hey, Lennie, I think somebody's home. I just saw the curtain move."

Briscoe's eyes narrowed as he closed the driver's side door and glanced upward at a window. "You sure?"

"Positively."

"I remember Sampler having a live-in girlfriend named Laci Daley," said Briscoe. "Could be her."

"Let's hope so."

The two detectives walked up the four steps to the front door. Curtis raised his fist preparing to knock. But before he could, the door opened and they were face-to-face with a dark-haired brunette with piercing ocean blue eyes and a sad expression. They recognized her as Laci Daley.

She was confronted with two gold police badges.

"Detectives Curtis and Briscoe?" The woman stood aside and held the door open, allowing the officers to come inside. "It's been awhile. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Briscoe swallowed the lump in his throat, and Curtis chewed his lower lip. Both detectives hated they were about to force this woman to relive the terror she felt from the break-in, but knew they had little choice in the matter.

"We need to ask you a few questions, Laci," he said quietly. "I'm afraid it has something to do with the break-in ten days before Andy's death." He saw the pained look on her face.

"Follow me into the living room," she said and led the detectives into the next room where she motioned for them to sit down on the sofa while she sat in a nearby chair.

"What did you want to ask me?" she asked, hands resting in her lap. "I told you everything when you both were here before and after Andy died."

"Before we begin," Curtis started. "We'd like to know how you're doing. Are you all right? Is there anything you need or anything we can do for you?"

Laci sighed. "I'm okay. Really. I can't tell you it hasn't been hard since Andy died. Everything reminds me of him, but I'm dealing with it." She licked her lips. "Now what can I do for both of you?"

"We assume you heard about the shooting in the courthouse at 100 Centre Street?" asked Briscoe.

"The Jack McCoy shooting? Yes, I heard about it on the news. But what does it have to do with Andy or me?"

Briscoe paused momentarily. "Well, apparently McCoy was shot with the gun that was stolen from Andy, and was also used to kill him."

Laci gasped at this news. "Is Mr. McCoy all right?" she asked shakily.

"He's in very serious condition right now and might be paralyzed from the waist down."

"My God. But what can I do to help?"

"We need to ask if you or Andy found anything other than his weapon missing when someone broke into the house." Curtis asked.

Laci pursed her lips as she rattled her brains to recall the break-in, and the terror she felt at the time.

"I remember Andy and I searched the entire house afterwards and the only thing we noticed missing was his service weapon. Why?"

Briscoe sighed. "We'd like your permission to search your home. It's not that we don't believe you, Laci, it's just that you may have overlooked or not noticed something when you and Andy searched the house."

"I don't know what you expect to find, but go ahead."

* * *

Abby sat in the hard plastic chair Schiff had vacated minutes ago when she convinced him to go to the cafeteria and get something to eat, and to take a break from sitting with McCoy.

She reached over and covered Jack's hand with her own. She chewed her lower lip nervously.

"Jack, I sent Adam to the cafeteria so he could have a break and get something to eat. He's been here since you were brought in and refuses to leave your side." She leaned closer to her boss. "I've been told if you talk to a person who's in a coma, that they can hear you even if they can't respond. Now I don't know if that's true or not." She licked her lips before continuing. "But if it is, then I want….no, I need you to listen. We need you to get better_._ If you give up, then you're letting Herlihy win. You can't let him win, Jack. You can't." She took in and let out a deep breath. "I refuse to let Malcolm Herlihy or his mother win especially if one of them are responsible for putting you in here."

"And what if it turns out Malcolm Herlihy or his mother isn't responsible for what happened?" a gruff voice said from behind her.

Abby looked over her shoulder and spotted Schiff standing in the doorway holding a Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand, his other hand gripping the door handle holding the door ajar. His face was expressionless.

Abby let out a deep breath. With a glance back over her shoulder at her boss, she again turned toward Schiff and let out a deep breath.

"If it turns out not to have been Malcolm Herlihy or his mother who did this to Jack, I promise you I will prosecute whoever it is to the best of my ability. On that you have my word."

Schiff nodded and walked further into the room until he stood beside his female ADA. There was a grim expression on his face as he stared into her brown eyes.

"And after you convict the bastard whether it be one of the Herlihys or a cop, I'll need to decide what kind of punishment is suitable for the bastard or bastards."

"Seems to me the death penalty should be the punishment of choice here," she said.

"Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves, Miss Carmichael? Nobody's even been arrested yet."

"I know that. But when they are, I say we should fry 'em both."

"And if the shooter turns out to be a cop?"

When Abby answered, there was no hesitation in her voice.

"If the shooter turns out to be a cop, I will still crucify him and his associate. I gave you my word on that. All I ask is that you strongly consider the death penalty for both of 'em."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Briscoe and Curtis drove away from the scene after spending a little over two hours of searching the dead officer's house and finding nothing other than what they had expected to find. They were forced to accept that the only thing taken from Sampler's house ten days ago had been the dead officer's service weapon.

"Well, that was a total waste of time," Curtis commented as he laid the back of his head on the headrest while his partner drove. "We learned nothing new."

"Yeah…well…" Briscoe muttered with a sigh. "About all we proved was that Sampler's gun was the only thing taken from his house."

"Yeah, but that doesn't bring us any closer to McCoy's shooter or the partner who erased the tapes in the courthouse. Nor does it prove Malcolm Herlihy or his mother didn't shoot the counselor."

"So what now?" asked Lennie as he turned a corner.

"Y'know, there's something that's been bothering me throughout this entire thing," Rey said.

"And what might that be?"

"Remember when the shooting went down?"

"Yeah…and?"

"With all the cops who were present during the trial and the reading of the verdict, I have to wonder why nobody got a good look at the gunman. All we got were vague descriptions from the cops we talked to. Why do you think that is, Lennie?"

Briscoe shrugged his shoulders. "That sorta bugs me too. Cops are trained to notice things. I agree with you there were too many vague descriptions of the shooter after what happened. Then again, if the shooter _was_ one of ours, I can see the blue wall of resistance being in full effect. But then that brings us right back to the question as to why would a cop shoot the counselor if the verdict is what they wanted? But on the other hand, if a cop was still responsible for shooting McCoy, I can't see other cops covering for him and especially _not _after the counselor convicted a cop killer. It just doesn't wash, Rey."

"I know it doesn't. None of this entire mess makes any sense. But I think we need to again question the cops from the 18th Precinct who were both in court and present when the verdict was read and see if we can jiggle a few memories."

"I'd also like to know why McCoy was shot _after_ the guilty verdict was read. Seems to me, like you said, a guilty verdict is exactly what cops' want when a cop killer is on trial. Shooting a prosecuting attorney when cops get the verdict they want doesn't make any sense to me."

"Not to me either. The only persons who would be adversely affected by a guilty verdict is Malcolm Herlihy and his mother Estelle. But we have no proof either of them stole Officer Sampler's service weapon despite Jacob Herlihy shooting Sampler with the officer's own weapon."

"And we got lucky in the end. I mean after we recovered Sampler's gun following McCoy's shooting, forensics was able to match the bullets taken from both McCoy and Sampler to the dead officer's gun. Before McCoy was shot, all we had was the bullet from Sampler's body and nothing but the striations (1) but no gun to match it with."

"But then you have to wonder how Herlihy got Sampler's weapon in the first place. I mean he could've stolen it; he also could've bought it from somebody else including the creep who stole it to begin with…"

"But I have to wonder why Herlihy would steal Sampler's weapon to begin with."

"That troubles me too. I mean we searched Sampler's house and nothing was touched except the gun-safe where Sampler kept his weapon after he got home. The safe was broken into and the gun taken. Nothing else was touched. That tells me the break-in was solely for the purpose of stealing the gun."

Lennie looked at his partner. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is I have to wonder if the theft of Sampler's gun was necessary as it was used to shoot Jack McCoy. Seems to be too much of a coincidence to be anything else."

Lennie mulled over his partner's words as he kept his eyes on the road. Even he had to admit to himself what Rey said made perfect sense. But the question he couldn't shake was why would someone need a cop's gun to shoot an attorney? And was Malcolm or Estelle Herlihy responsible for it all?

He sighed loudly. "This is becoming a bigger mess than we first thought."

"So what d'ya want to do next?"

"What I want to do next is make a pit stop."

"Pit stop where?"

"I want to stop by the hospital and pay the counselor a visit and see how he's doing."

Curtis nodded his head in agreement. "And afterward?" he asked glancing at the older detective.

Briscoe kept his eyes straight ahead. "And afterward, we again talk to the cops we originally questioned who were present during the trial and reading of the verdict, and see if we can jiggle any memories."

Curtis didn't respond but nodded his head.

Briscoe then proceeded to head down the street he knew would take him in the direction of the hospital.

* * *

Abby opened the door to Jack McCoy's office to find Profaci and Muller still going through file folders. She walked further into the office, looked down, and noticed a small separate stack of folders on the table beside the first box which she assumed had been pulled from the boxes on the desk. Both cops glanced up at her with tired eyes.

"Anything?" she asked fingering the top folder of the small stack.

Profaci let out a deep breath. "Just these ten," he said. "We've been through five boxes so far and these ten are possibilities. We've still got five more boxes to search."

Picking up the top folder, Abby thumbed through it and scanned the first page. The case struck a chord with her.

"I remember this case," she said quietly. "'_People v. Heffner.' _Husband and wife murder pair. McCoy prosecuted them a year ago. During the trial, the couple's two sons, Douglas and Simon, threatened Jack when he refused to conceal certain evidence the police dug up during their investigation."

"What happened to them after the trial?" asked Muller, curious.

Abby sighed. "Heffner and his wife were convicted and sentenced to death by lethal injection."

"And their sons?"

"Douglas was arrested six months after the trial when he shot-and-killed a cop who stopped him because he was driving while intoxicated. He's still in prison serving a twenty-five year sentence. And Simon served sixty days in jail for driving with a suspended license. He hasn't been heard from since he got out of prison."

"Think he would still harbor a grudge against McCoy after all this time?" asked Profaci.

Abby shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. "Hard to say. Parents convicted and sentenced to death; older brother serving a twenty-five year sentence. Anything's possible. I'll call Van Buren and ask her to try and find Simon Heffner." Secretly, she hated the idea that they may now have a fourth suspect who might have been responsible for the attempted murder of Jack McCoy.

Closing the folder, Abby tossed it back onto the pile, and proceeded to grab a folder from the box the two detectives were working from. She sat on the edge of the desk and began perusing the file.

* * *

Schiff leaned his back against the wall outside McCoy's room and sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup; legs crossed at the ankles. He was bone-weary and glad Abby Carmichael had insisted he take a break during her visit because he hadn't realized how much he had needed one. Staring down the hall, he watched the human interactions at the opposite end when he spotted the elevator doors hiss open, and out stepped two plainclothesmen from the 27th Precinct whom he recognized, Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis. The two detectives approached him spotting the concerned look on his face.

"What's happened?" asked Briscoe. "How's the counselor? Why aren't you with him?"

"The doctor's inside with him now," Schiff explained tiredly. "I'm going back in after he's finished examining him."

"How is he overall?" asked Curtis.

Schiff bowed his head and let out a deep breath. "Not good," he said. He then looked up again. "Besides being paralyzed from the waist down he's developed pneumonia."

"We heard," Briscoe said. "We're sorry."

"Here's hoping he gets better," Curtis added. "McCoy's one of the good guys."

"Thanks," Schiff said in such a soft voice the detectives barely heard him. "But the worst thing is that I'm afraid we're going to lose him without him ever regaining consciousness." He massaged his temples with a thumb and forefinger. "And if we do lose him, I have no idea how the District Attorney's office will bounce back from it. McCoy's the best ADA in the department."

"His condition's that bad?" asked Briscoe with a pained expression.

"Afraid so."

Just then, the door to McCoy's room opened and a gray-haired man about Curtis's height with piercing green eyes behind wire-framed glasses, walked out draping his stethoscope around his neck. The two uniformed guards stood silently and watched the interactions between the humans.

"This is Doctor Symthe," said Adam. "He's been caring for Jack. Doctor, these are Detectives Briscoe and Curtis. You can tell them whatever you have to tell me."

"Mr. Schiff?" Smythe said looking at the older man. "I've finished my examination of Mr. McCoy. You can go back inside now."

"How is he, doctor?" asked Schiff apprehensively. "Any change?"

Smythe sighed and folded his arms across his chest, staring at the three men.

"I'll be honest with you. Mr. McCoy's condition hasn't changed. Now while this isn't good news, it isn't bad news either as he hasn't gotten worse."

"And the pneumonia?"

"We may be lucky in that we caught it early," Symthe said. "But it's still touch-and-go right now. However, there is one small bit of good news."

"And that is…?" Right now Adam desperately needed something…anything.

"The swelling around the lower part of his spine has gone down just a bit. And while it's still too early to say whether he'll be permanently or temporarily paralyzed, there is some room now for optimism."

For the first time since his ADA had been shot, Adam Schiff felt hope that perhaps…just perhaps…Jack McCoy just might recover even though it was too soon as to how much he would recover.

"And the coma? When might he wake up?" asked Schiff.

Smythe sighed. "There's still no time frame as to when he'll regain consciousness, I'm afraid. It could be today, tomorrow, a week, a month, perhaps never. We just have to wait and see. Now if you'll excuse me, I do have other patients I need to check on."

"Thank you, doctor," Schiff replied with a small grin. "Thank you very much for what you're doing."

"You're very welcome. Wish I could do more." Smythe smiled before he turned and walked away down the hall toward another patient's room.

Schiff turned toward the two detectives. "Why don't you go inside and visit with him for a spell. I need to make a telephone call and check in with my office."

"You sure?" asked Curtis.

"I'm sure," Schiff replied with a small smile and walked away in the direction of the nurses' station down the hall. Left alone, Briscoe sighed and pushed open the door. He and Curtis walked in and paused just inside the doorway, staring at the motionless man in the bed.

"My God," Briscoe murmured under his breath.

He and Curtis walked further into the room. Briscoe sat in the plastic chair while Curtis stood beside the bed, hands stuffed in pockets. They studied the tubes, the ventilator, and the metal pole beside the bed with its bag hanging from it with a tube running downward attached to a needle which was inserted into the patient's elbow. If it hadn't been for the slight rise and fall of his chest, McCoy would have appeared dead. He also looked extremely pale compared to his black hair. The pressure bandage wrapped around his head was fresh indicating it had been changed, but a small spot of blood stained one temple.

"I hope he gets well," Curtis said. "It wouldn't be the same without him around."

"You hear that, counselor," Briscoe said. "You need to recover and get back to work. The DA's office needs you."

* * *

(1) Striations are the markings left behind on the bullet as it passes through the barrel and on a cartridge as it is hit by the firing pin. Individual spent rounds can be linked back a specific weapon. From _Forensic Firearm Examination._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Curtis, seated in the front passenger seat, was on his cell phone when Briscoe emerged from the hospital and trotted down the steps. He had his notebook on his thigh and a pen between his fingers. As the older cop approached the driver's side door, he could hear part of the conversation.

"Was anything stolen from the apartment? Okay. We'll check it out and let you know what we find."

He finally ended his call and slipped the cell back inside his inner jacket pocket. He waited until his partner slid behind the steering wheel.

Briscoe turned the key in the ignition starting the engine. "What did L.T. have to say?"

"I told her of our suspicions about the officers who were present in the courtroom during the trial and reading of the verdict…"

"And…?" asked Briscoe.

"And she agreed we need to re-visit those officers from the 18th Precinct, but she suggested we start on that first thing in the morning."

"I have no problems with that," Briscoe said. "So what does she want us to do for the time being? I can always go home and resume my crossword puzzle," he added sarcastically.

"Very funny. She needs us to head to McCoy's apartment. Seems a call came in less than an hour ago reporting that somebody broke in and she wants us to check it out. Then, she wants us to look for someone named Simon Heffner."

Briscoe pulled over to the curb and looked at his partner.

"Somebody broke in the counselor's apartment? What the hell were they looking for?"

Curtis shrugged. "Who knows? But she wants us to check it out anyway."

"And who is Simon Heffner? I never heard that name before."

"His older brother Douglas is serving 25-years in prison, and mom and dad are on death row. The brothers threatened McCoy during their parents' trial for refusing to conceal evidence a year ago. Simon vanished after serving two months for driving with a suspended license. Van Buren thinks he might be another suspect in the attack on the counselor."

Briscoe sighed and pulled away from the curb. There was a frown on his face. "Breaking into McCoy's apartment after a year? What's the point? It's not gonna change anything."

"True. But he did threaten McCoy."

"You get an address on the guy?"

"Yeah; both home and work." Curtis flipped through two pages of his notebook until he found what he was looking for. "Here it is. He works at Simpkins Retail Center and lives at 2324 Cyrus Street in Manhattan. Both are in the Village."

While driving, Lennie glanced at his watch. "I purchased something recently at Simpkins Retail. They close at six p.m. nightly. And since it's just a little after six, he probably just got off work. Let's give him time to get home before we drop by for a visit. In the meanwhile, let's pay another visit to the counselor's residence."

* * *

Schiff ran both hands up-and-down his haggard face. It had been a little over an hour since Briscoe and Curtis left, and things had quieted down in the ICU. Now alone, he let out a deep sigh and stared at his ADA's face. Leaning forward, he gripped one of the unconscious man's hands and squeezed it.

"This has gone on long enough, Jack," he said. "You've got to come back to us and that's an order. I need you to give us a sign you're still in there fighting," he added not aware of the person standing in the doorway watching and listening. "Please. Give us a sign you're still in there."

It was then that Schiff's face took on a stunned expression.

He felt the lightest squeeze on his own hand.

* * *

_He thought he heard somebody calling his name. Somebody ordering him to do something. Somebody whose name he couldn't recall at the moment despite the voice sounding familiar to him. _

_It was a voice he had known for several years. Adam? It was Adam!_

_He told himself to open his eyes just a crack so he could look at the man he loved like a father. But his eyes refused to open. He then tried to move on the bed and into a sitting position, but his legs refused to move. In fact, he couldn't feel much of anything below his waist. Oh God! What did this mean? Was he paralyzed? __Is that why he couldn't feel anything below his waist?_

_Added to that, there was a throbbing pain his head that was merciless. A pain that wouldn't allow him to move his head at all. In fact, his entire body above the waist hurt. Why? What had happened to him?_

_A faint groan of pain was all that escaped from his lips as he fought to remember how he ended up in so much agony. Then it came flooding back to him._

_The trial. The guilty verdict. Then the pain in his lower back. After the pain the feeling in his legs left him and he fell. That was followed by the subsequent pain in his head when he remembered his head striking the table. The last thing he remembered before he fell was Abby standing next to him._

_Abby! Was she all right? Had she been injured? Where was she? Maybe Adam could tell him. Again he tried to move his head, crack open his eyes, and utter a few words, but nothing happened. But he was aware of someone holding his hand. So, mustering all the strength he had which wasn't much, he squeezed the hand holding his._

"Jack!" Schiff uttered getting to his feet. He bent further over his friend still clutching his hand. "C'mon, Jack! You did it once and you can do it again. Squeeze my hand again!"

Hearing a sound behind him, Adam turned his head and looked over his shoulder and saw Dr. Smythe approaching. The doctor gently edged Schiff aside.

"He squeezed my hand," Adam explained excitedly.

Smythe gently touched McCoy's shoulder closest to him only to feel the unconscious man's body tense.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he grabbed his penlight. "Mr. McCoy, I need to look into your eyes for a minute. He lifted one eyelid at a time and shined his light into them and got a faint reaction. He gently picked up Jack's hand and placed it in his. "Mr. Schiff has told me you squeezed his hand. Now, I need you to squeeze mine to let me know you're fighting to come back to us." There was no response. Smythe glanced at Schiff for a second and then back at his patient. "Jack, we know you can do this. You need to let us know you're still with us. I need you to squeeze my hand. Just squeeze my hand and I'll let you rest for the rest of the night."

He didn't have long to wait. McCoy squeezed his hand weakly which brought a smile to Smythe's face. He again glanced at Schiff for a split second before he lay his patient's hand back on the bed beside him. He faced the older man.

"Well?" asked Schiff hopefully.

"Don't take what I'm about to say as gospel, but it looks like Mr. McCoy is fighting to come out of his coma and rejoin us."

"Any idea how long that might take?"

Smythe crossed his arms across his chest. "Hard to say except that it'll happen in its own time. It can't be rushed. All we can do is continue doing what we're doing, and for you and his other friends to keep talking to him. He'll awaken when he's ready. But keep in mind his condition is still serious. Now if you excuse me, I do have to go." He smiled at the older man and started to walk away when he paused. "But before I go, Mr. Schiff, let me say that I am quite hopeful things will change soon." He then walked away leaving Schiff alone with the patient.

The DA pulled the hard chair back up beside the bed and sat down again. Again taking McCoy's hand in his, he gently squeezed it.

"You did good. Now rest for a while. You deserved it," he said with a small grin.

* * *

When the detectives arrived at the apartment of Jack McCoy, they noticed the door of the apartment was slightly ajar. With a glance at each other, Briscoe and Curtis pulled their weapons, eased open the door, and cautiously walked inside.

"Police!" Briscoe announced as they scanned the living room finding nothing. They then went room-to-room and also found nothing. In fact, the entire apartment was somewhat orderly or as orderly as a bachelor like McCoy would have kept it.

Briscoe looked around the living room.

"Nothing seems to be missing," he said. "Nothing seems to be out-of-place. Nothing's ransacked. Just appears somebody broke open the front door for no reason."

"Would McCoy leave his front door unlocked?" asked Rey.

"In New York would you?" said Briscoe sarcastically.

"Guess not." Rey looked around and saw a red light blinking on McCoy's answering machine. "He's a bachelor. Could be a girlfriend. If it is…."

"He's also an attorney. Play it."

Curtis pressed the button and first came the outgoing message.

"_This is Jack McCoy….please leave your name, number, and a brief message…."_

"That's not much of a greeting," Lennie wisecracked. They then heard a beep followed by the incoming message.

"_You're a dead man, McCoy. You got lucky so far, but you'll be dead soon just like the others."_

Then another beep sounded.

"Friendly guy," Curtis said exchanging looks with Briscoe. "Since we know McCoy didn't get this message before he was shot, whoever left it called him afterward."

"Yeah, but, he would have to have known the counselor didn't get the message. That means the shooter somehow knew he was still alive."

"Means more than that," said Rey. "He said McCoy was lucky so far and that there were others before him. That sounds like he intends to finish the job."

"He plans to make another attempt on McCoy," Briscoe stated.

Looking concerned, Curtis pulled out his cell phone, scrolling down his list until he found Van Buren's number. He hit speed dial and put the phone to his ear.

"I'm gonna call L.T.," he said. "And make sure she tightens the security outside McCoy's room until we catch this guy." There was a click on the other end.

To give his partner some privacy, Briscoe moved away and scanned the living room again making sure they had not overlooked anything. Everything seemed secure except for the unlocked front door.

He looked around when Curtis approached him tucking the cell back inside his pocket.

"Well?" asked Briscoe.

"She's gonna add extra security outside McCoy's hospital room. I also told her we found the front door unlocked and nothing seems to have been stolen. She's gonna post a uniformed officer outside just in case. He should be here within the hour. She wants us to wait until the uniform gets here before we visit Simon Heffner. And based on the message on his answering machine, she's gonna have someone check and see if there were any other reported shootings of attorneys before McCoy and get back to us."

Briscoe let out a deep breath and glanced around. "I gotta tell you, Rey. This case is getting weirder and weirder by the moment. Why would someone break into McCoy's apartment and steal nothing?"

"And if that caller was right and there are others before McCoy, then we've got a real problem," stated Rey Curtis.

"Not only that," Briscoe stated. "But we could have ourselves a serial killer with perhaps a perfect record."

* * *

BAU Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner aka Hotch to his friends, dropped his pen onto his desk, leaned back in his chair, and ran both hands down his tired face. He needed a break from the stack of files yet to be reviewed sitting in the in-box on his desk. His dark eyes perused the stack and let out a weary sigh. There was no end to the paperwork. He straightened up in his chair, and picked up his pen to resume his work when there was a knock on his door. He paused and looked up again.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, and his media liaison, Jennifer Jareau aka JJ, peeked her head inside before she stepped inside his office. Staring at her, Hotch could tell she was apprehensive by the way she tightly gripped the brown folder in both hands.

"What is it, JJ?"

"I hate to bother you but we have another shooting."

Hotch sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. They had been investigating four fatal shootings of lawyers over the past three years with no success, leads, or suspects. The last shooting was eight months ago.

"Where this time?"

JJ scanned through the folder in her hands. "New York City. A prosecutor named John James McCoy. He's with the District Attorney's office." (1)

Hotch's eyebrows arched upward and disappeared into the wisps of his thick black hair which fell across his forehead.

"Jack McCoy?" he asked, stunned.

"You know him?"

"He's an extremely successful prosecutor with the District Attorney's office in New York. I met him once while we were handling a case in New York. When and where was he killed?"

"He wasn't. He was shot in a court room following the end of a trial, just like the other four attorneys. McCoy survived but he's in bad shape. Possibly paralyzed from the waist down and is currently in a coma. Prognosis is not good."

Hotch hung his head and sadly shook it. He liked Jack McCoy…a lot. When they met, he discovered the two men shared a lot in common. But they also shared a lot of differences. But despite it all, he considered the man a good friend. He raised his head again.

"Have we been invited in?"

"Yes. New York District Attorney Adam Schiff called me requesting our help. He said the police are doing their best but they're finding very little. "

Hotch sighed. "Okay. Gather everybody in the conference room."

"Already done. They're waiting for you."

* * *

(1) John James McCoy is Jack McCoy's complete given name. But he is known on the series as Jack McCoy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hotch, followed by JJ, walked into the conference room where their teammates, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA David Rossi, SSA Emily Prentiss, and Doctor Spencer Reid sat, waiting. Hotch took his customary seat at the head of the table while JJ handed out copies of the case file to the others. She then took the remote and stood in front of the viewing screen. When she had everyone's attention, she activated the remote and a photo of Jack McCoy appeared on the viewing screen. The agents opened their folders so they could follow along.

"This is John James McCoy also known as Jack McCoy," she explained slowly. "He's with the District Attorney's office in New York. He was shot in the back while in court following the reading of a guilty verdict on a case he prosecuted."

"This now makes five dead lawyers," remarked Morgan sadly.

"Not this time however," she explained. "McCoy's still alive but in serious condition. He's in a coma and paralyzed from the waist down. Whether or not it becomes permanent is still in doubt."

"McCoy…" muttered Rossi. He glanced at Hotchner. "Aaron, don't you know somebody with the same name?"

The others looked at their Unit Chief, waiting.

"Yes. I met Jack McCoy while we were working a case in New York eight months ago. We became friends. He's one of the good guys."

"Obviously somebody doesn't agree," Morgan replied his eyes scanning the file in his hands. He was reading the second page. "Says here McCoy had just successfully prosecuted Jacob Herlihy, a cop killer, despite having very little evidence. Seems the conviction was based mostly on the testimonies of the two investigating detectives, a Leonard aka 'Lennie' Briscoe and a Reynaldo aka 'Rey' Curtis."

"It's strange he went after the prosecutor instead of the detectives," Reid stated. "Seems to me killing them would have resulted in a not-guilty verdict depending on what other evidence McCoy may have had of course."

"You would think so," Hotch stated. "But our friend has chosen, for some reason, to go after the attorneys. And each was a highly successful attorney. McCoy makes the fifth. And although we couldn't find out originally, we need to find out why _this_ time."

"And even though we couldn't find one before, I still think there's a connection between these shootings," said Rossi. "Nobody wakes up one morning and decides to target lawyers."

"Not unless they themselves had a bad experience with one," added Morgan.

"Such as?" asked Rossi with raised eyebrows.

Morgan shrugged. "Such as an acquittal they thought unjust; a wrongful conviction…"

"…or someone they knew who suffered the same fates," added Reid.

"And the police haven't been able to find anything?" asked Prentiss tossing a few loose strands of her long raven-colored locks over her shoulder. "Is that why they asked for our help?"

"The police didn't invite us in this time," Hotch explained. "The District Attorney did."

"The District Attorney's office asked for our help?" asked a wide-eyed Prentiss. Her surprise was obvious to all except Hotch and JJ.

JJ exhaled. "Adam Schiff called. He's the District Attorney in New York. He informed me McCoy's assistant, Abby Carmichael, is currently checking into his past cases to see if anybody else stands out as a possible suspect."

"Well this is weird," Rossi let out a deep breath. "Do the police know the DA invited us?"

"I assume they were told," Hotch replied. "But even if they weren't, we still do our jobs the same way we normally would."

"Looks like we're headed to New York," Rossi said with a sigh.

There were no further comments from anybody else in the room.

With a final sideways glance at McCoy's picture, Hotch tore his eyes away from the viewing screen and stood up. The others mimicked their leader's actions.

"Wheels up in thirty," he announced.

* * *

Briscoe pulled the car up to the curb once he and Curtis arrived outside 2324 Cyrus Street in Greenwich Village. He checked his watch. It was nearing seven o'clock. As they exited the car, they glanced up at the apartment building and saw the lights were on in several apartments.

"Well…" Briscoe began as he closed the driver's side door still looking upward. "Here's hoping Heffner lives on the first floor. I'm getting too old to keep climbing stairs."

"Haven't you heard, Lennie, that age is only a number? It's all in your mind." He tried the doorknob and found the door locked. He then pressed the doorbell for apartment 4B. "And he lives in apartment 4B by-the-way," he added.

Briscoe chuckled. "Then my mind is getting too old." A voice then came through the intercom.

"Hello?" It was an elderly female voice.

The detectives exchanged looks. This had caught them off-guard.

"Can we speak with Simon Heffner, please?" asked Briscoe.

"Who?"

"Simon Heffner. The man in apt 4B."

"I live in apartment 4B. I don't know any Simon Heffner."

Briscoe and Curtis exchanged another look.

"Ma'am, our records show a Simon Heffner at this address living in apartment 4B."

"Well your records are wrong, young man." The elderly female voice was becoming angry and it was obvious to the detectives. "My name is Mildred Waller and I moved in here almost two years ago. You can check with the landlord if you don't believe me. _Now go away!" _The voice on the intercom disappeared.

Briscoe looked at his partner and kept his voice low. "Mildred Waller. Rey, that husband and wife serial killer team that McCoy convicted a year ago. What were their names?"

"Heffner. Ted and Jacqueline Heffner. Why?"

"And the wife's maiden name?"

Curtis reached into the recesses of his mind for a hidden memory, and suddenly let out a deep breath. "Waller. It was Jacqueline Waller." Briscoe smiled and jerked a thumb in the direction of the closed door.

"Something tells me that sweet ole lady in 4B, Mildred Waller, is the mother of Jacqueline Waller whose son-in-law is Ted Heffner."

"The same Ted and Jaqueline Heffner whose sons threatened McCoy during their parents' trial," Briscoe grinned.

"We need a face-to-face with Mildred Waller," Rey said. He turned and pressed several buttons other than that of 4B until one of them buzzed the front door open. The detectives went inside and headed up the continuous flights of steps until they reached the fourth floor. They glanced at the numbers on the doors until they spotted apartment 4B. Curtis knocked loudly on the door as he and Briscoe reached for their badges. They heard footsteps approaching from inside.

"Who is it?" a voice asked.

"Police," said Curtis.

They heard the door being unlocked and it was opened only as far as the chain would allow. They noticed a pair of blue eyes and a head of grey hair partially hidden behind the door.

"Mrs. Waller?" asked Lennie as he put his badge away.

"Why didn't you both say you were police?" she asked.

Lennie smiled. "Most people have an allergic reaction to us when we say that," he joked.

Mrs. Waller closed the door. They heard the sound of the chain being removed and the door opened fully. She allowed the detectives to come inside. Then, she closed the door. After reattaching the chain, she turned and faced the detectives with arms crossed in front of her, a harsh stare on her face.

"Now, what do you want to know about my scumbag of a son-in-law?"

* * *

When the team was seated on the jet, they began to review the case. An open laptop sat on a table between them with the FBI logo on its screen. Their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, remained back in Quantico and was running a background check on those involved in the latest shooting so she would have the information needed and be ready when called upon. Meanwhile, the other BAU agents needed to prep before their jet landed in New York.

"Looks like this Jack McCoy has a solid record as a prosecutor," Emily said with a sigh. She looked at her Unit Chief. "Hotch, is this guy exactly what he appears to be? Or is his reputation simply overrated?"

Hotch exhaled and crossed his legs. He stared at Emily with a harsh glare that held no animosity.

"Jack's reputation is richly deserved, Prentiss," he replied. "Believe me when I tell you he's earned his stripes."

Emily pursed her lips and nodded as her eyes returned to the case file in her hands.

"What's he like, Aaron?" asked Rossi casually staring at his best friend. "This Jack McCoy."

"Let's see. He joined the District Attorney's office in 1994 as EADA. That's Executive Assistant District Attorney under Adam Schiff who's the District Attorney. He was promoted after Schiff's previous EADA, Ben Stone, resigned to pursue private practice. He's worked there for twenty-two years, has a 98% conviction rate, and strives to win at all cost. Winning is everything to him."(1)

"Sounds like you," added Morgan in a soft voice.

Hotch chuckled because he had seen the similarity in himself as well.

"Where'd you two meet?" asked JJ.

"In a bar near the hotel we were staying in while we were in New York. He was sitting at the bar when I walked in. I needed to unwind and think, and there was a vacant seat beside him. He let me join him. We talked, found out we had a lot in common, and became friends."

"So you're saying he's the real thing," said Dave.

"That he is, my fine furry crime fighters," said the smiling face of Penelope Garcia when she appeared on the computer screen. She had heard Rossi's question to her boss.

"What d'ya have on McCoy, Baby Girl?" asked Morgan.

"Okay, here's the 411. John James McCoy aka Jack McCoy has been with the DA's office for twenty-two years as Bossman just said with a 98% conviction rate."

"Impressive record," said Rossi.

"That it is indeed, Oh Goateed One. And he wasn't selective about who he prosecuted. Among them were about 200 cops who crossed over to the dark side ala Darth Vader from Star Wars."

"Prosecuting cops," Morgan said with a deep sigh. "I'm willing to bet that made him popular with the boys in blue," he added sarcastically.

"Oh did it, my Chocolate Love God. He was not very well liked by most of our boys in blue. In fact, he was given the nickname of 'Hang 'em high, McCoy.'" (2)

Morgan and Rossi chuckled quietly.

"Besides cops, who else did he prosecute, Garcia?" asked Hotch.

"Let's see…there were organized crime figures. Gun manufacturers. Fellow attorneys. Doctors. Drug manufacturers. There wasn't a criminal he avoided prosecuting."

"Did any of these others threaten him?" asked Reid.

"Not a one. Oh, before I forget, our latest victim was shot with a police officer's gun, a Glock 17."

"A Glock 17 is a law enforcement issued weapon," said Hotch. "Garcia, you said McCoy prosecuted about 200 officers, and that he wasn't very popular with the police. Check and find out if there were any officers who had a beef with or threatened him."

"Your wish is my command, my liege. Anything else?"

"Yes. Check and see if Jack had contact with any of the deceased attorneys. I know the chances are slim because he's in New York, but see if he had any run-ins with them just the same."

"Yes sir. Is that all?"

"Not quite," said Reid. "What can you tell us about Abby Carmichael?"

"Okay, my hunk-a grey matter. Abigail Carmichael aka Abby Carmichael has been with the DA's office for about two years. She transferred in from the Narcotics Bureau in 1998(3) becoming McCoy's assistant. She replaced his previous ADA, Jamie Ross (4) who left the DA's office to go into private practice. Oh, and sir?"

"Yes, Penelope?" said Hotch.

"Abby Carmichael is acting for Adam Schiff and is heading the search through McCoy's past convictions along with the police from the 27th Precinct under the leadership of a Lieutenant Anita Van Buren."

Hotch nodded. "Garcia, contact this Lieutenant Van Buren and let her know we on our way per the DA's request and will be meeting with her and her detectives as soon as we arrive."

"Yes sir."

"One last thing, Garcia…" said Reid.

"Yes, boy wonder. What can I do you for?"

"Other than work, was there any personal relationship between Carmichael and McCoy? Any jealous boyfriends on her part who may have had a problem with their close working relationship and mistook it as something else?"

"Sorry. Their relationship was strictly business from what I can tell. Also, it didn't seem that Ms. Carmichael was dating anybody. And if there was any kind of hanky-panky going on between her and McCoy, they kept it out of the office."

"How about with his former associate Jamie Ross?"

"Nothing. In fact, the only trouble she had during that time was with her ex-husband, Neil Gorton, whose an attorney with his own firm, challenging her for sole custody of their daughter, Katie. He claimed her working long hours caused her to leave Katie alone too many nights with the nanny. Also, he also didn't like her remarrying because he felt that his ex would then try and remove him from Katie's life. So she resigned in 1998 despite the objections of both McCoy and Schiff."

"But she went into private practice, Baby Girl," Morgan pointed out.

"Eventually, as being in private practice didn't require the same long hours she worked before, and she was able to remarry at the same time. Garcia out." (5) The tech analyst disconnected her connection with the team's laptop.

Hotch blew out a deep breath and looked at his team who waited for their boss's instructions.

"Okay. When we land, Rossi, I need you and Morgan to go to the District Attorney's office and meet with this Abby Carmichael. Reid, you and Prentiss go to the hospital and check on McCoy's condition and talk with this Adam Schiff whom I understand is at the hospital keeping him company."

"What are you and JJ gonna do, Aaron, if I may ask?" asked Rossi.

"JJ and I are going to the 27th Precinct and speak with Lieutenant Van Buren."

* * *

(1) Benjamin Stone (Michael Moriarty) was EADA during the first 4 seasons of L&O.

(2) 'Hang 'em High, McCoy' is a nickname given to McCoy during the early years of Law and Order. Was seldom mentioned.

(3) Abby Carmichael (Angie Harmon) was with L&O from 1998-2001.

(4) Jamie Ross (Carey Lowell) was with L&O from 1996-1998. Her character did have custody issues with her ex-husband who objected to her working long hours.

(5) Jack McCoy had affairs with four of his ADAs: Ellen (last name unknown), Sally Bell (became defense attorney), Diana Hawthorne, and Claire Kincaid. After Claire died in a hit-and-run car accident, he only had friendships with future female ADAs and _did not_ have any affairs with them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter** **8**

Adam Schiff returned to his chair beside the bed of his injured friend and sat back down. He massaged his forehead with the fingers of one hand, with his elbow resting on the armrest. Inwardly, he was ecstatic that Jack was beginning to show signs of coming out of his coma. But outwardly, he was still worried about the man's recovery or how much of one there would be. About the only thing of which he was certain right now, was that he had to temper his emotions until McCoy's condition was on more stable ground.

Truth be told, he knew he needed to start thinking about what if Jack did recover. Could the DA's office move forward if its lead prosecutor was incapacitated to some degree or could no longer continue? There were several things to be considered. First, how much of a recovery would there be, and two, whether McCoy could still or still want to serve as the lead prosecutor if he _did_ remain in the position. When one came down to it, Schiff would point out that a good pair of legs wasn't necessary to go into court and prosecute a case. Jack could serve the same function if confined to a wheelchair. But would he want to? It would be McCoy's decision.

Knowing the man as he did, would he still want to even be an attorney if disabled? A lot of paralyzed people served and functioned in a lot of positions even without legs. And while not a vain man by any means, he was a perfectionist when it came to trying cases. He preferred everything in exact order before he went into court and often visited and questioned witnesses himself to clarify whatever needed clarification or to check out witnesses. And if he because of restrictions, had to rely on others to do what he himself usually did, could he handle it? He hoped the man could because when it came down to it, Schiff believed Jack would want to remain a lawyer and a prosecutor.

Or would he have to consider replacing him with another EADA and reassign McCoy. That decision would be contingent on the amount of his recovery and on Jack himself when they talked. But Schiff promised when they did talk, he would stress to Jack he believed the man could still do the job, and wanted him to remain in the position. That being paralyzed had no effect on his ability to do the job. He would just need to make adjustments.

Adam let out the deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Just the thought of having to fill the lead prosecutor position with someone new was a thought he'd rather not have at the moment nor a decision he wanted to consider making at the moment.

And what of Abby Carmichael? Where and how would she fit in in all this and in his decision? Could he, if necessary, move her into the position of lead prosecutor and reassign someone else to fill the second chair? Sure it would be easier, but Carmichael, a tough-as-nails attorney in her own right, was no Jack McCoy. Nobody truly was. Abby lacked the 'killer instinct' McCoy had. But again, those were decisions that would be contingent on McCoy's recovery and how much of one. (1)

He was so absorbed in his reverie he didn't hear the door of the hospital room opening. A nurse, holding a fresh IV bag of clear fluid, walked inside. Only when the sound of her shoes squishing on the linoleum floor caught his attention did he look around. He watched her approach, and returned her smile with a faint grin of his own. She approached the patient and placed the new bag on the edge of the bed, and started removing the empty bag from the hook at the top of the metal pole.

As she did so, Adam started to get to his feet to leave the room, but the nurse paused in what she was doing, and put a hand on his shoulder stopping him.

"There's no need for you to leave, sir," she said. "I'm just changing the bag of antibiotics with a fresh one. Doctor Smythe says we may have caught the pneumonia early, but the virus is being stubborn, so we need to keep giving him antibiotics." She proceeded to hang the full bag from the pole, then check the tubing and the needle before giving the older man another smile and leaving.

Adam grunted and resumed his seat. Now alone, he massaged his chin as he thought about the earlier telephone call he made to Quantico, and speaking with a Jennifer Jareau who agreed to present his case to her team, and that her Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, would make the final decision.

He knew she worked with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, and prayed that her boss would agree to take the case, and the team would come to New York, and help solve the mystery of who shot Jack McCoy. He had heard of the BAU from others, what it was they did, how successful they were, and decided to give them a call and plead his case to them. Not that he didn't have faith in the 27th Precinct, but he felt they needed help to solve the crime and quickly.

He realized the officers of the 27th Precinct had been working hard to solve the crime and he hated pulling seniority this way. But he had made it clear from the beginning he didn't intend to be patient which was why he made the call to Quantico in the first place. He wanted all the help he could get in finding out who was responsible and bringing them to justice no matter who it was. And while he knew the cops were doing their best, all they seemed to have come up with was additional suspects. He glanced at his watch; only two minutes had passed. He again focused his attention on McCoy.

Without warning, the machines surrounding McCoy were suddenly setting off loud alarms and the heart monitor was beeping erratically and his body began convulsing. (2)

Shocked, Schiff shot to his feet, touched the unconscious man's face, felt its dampness, and noticed the perspiration beading on his face.

"Jack!" he shouted snatching the patient buzzer from near the head of the bed, and pressed it repeatedly praying someone would rush in and help. The patient's shaking became worse, and his color which had just started to return, had now become ash grey. Also, he was wheezing indicating he was having trouble breathing despite the assistance from the ventilator.

Schiff was about to press the buzzer again when Dr. Smythe, followed by three nurses, one pushing a crash cart, burst into the room. Smythe immediately removed the stethoscope from around his neck, put the earplugs into his ears, and pressed the oval disk on the other end against the unconscious man's chest, and one of the nurses wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm and inflated it.

"His heartbeat is extremely fast. He's sweating, and he seems to be having seizures," Smythe stated looking at the nurse for the blood pressure reading.

"His blood pressure's 200/110 and rising, doctor."

Smythe looked at Schiff. "What the hell happened?"

"I have no idea. I was sitting with him, just thinking, and he suddenly started shaking and sweating, and the alarms started going off."

"Doctor, his heart's stopped!" a nurse cried.

"Mr. Schiff," Smythe ordered while pulling back the blankets, then lowered Jack's gown from the top. "I need you to wait outside!"

Schiff, with panic rising, was frozen in place. So frozen that one of the nurses had to physically push his body out of the room and close the door after she'd gotten him into the hallway.

* * *

Briscoe and Curtis emerged from Mildred Waller's building shaking their heads.

"Considering what Mildred Waller just told us about her son-in-law, makes me glad my former mothers-in-laws only hated me after both of my divorces(3)."

"If anything…" Curtis began. "…we know she blames Ted for turning her daughter into a serial killer with his verbal abuse and manipulation."

"_And…_" Briscoe added, "She didn't seem too happy about what he did regarding his sons either." He stood beside the driver-side door while Rey approached the passenger-side.

"I know. I mean, he manipulated his oldest, Douglas, and turned him against all law-enforcement beginning with McCoy. When the counselor refused to conceal evidence proving his mom and dad were killers, he somehow manipulated Douglas and convinced him that he was just like him, and to prove that, he needed to kill somebody in law enforcement. He couldn't get to McCoy, so he did the next best thing and killed a cop who tried to arrest him for DWI," Rey admitted. "All to prove to dear old dad he can be just like him. A chip off the old block."

"And apparently, we don't know if he failed with his manipulation of Simon as the boy disappeared after six months in jail. But according to Mildred, both sons hated McCoy, and the only one who might be responsible, and can still come after him is Simon. That's why we need to find him. If he _did _shoot the counselor, he's a threat to him until he's caught," Lennie added. "That's some family she has."

"Yeah," Curtis said sarcastically. "Three certified killers and a wannabee."

Exhaling, Lennie opened the door and slid behind the wheel. As Rey opened the passenger-side door, his cell phone rang. He waited until he got inside the car and closed the door before reaching inside and pulling out his cell, checking the caller ID.

"Van Buren," he remarked pressing the button and putting the phone to his ear. "Hey, L.T., what's up?"

Briscoe watched his partner and waited until the call ended. He noticed the change in his partner's face, sensing the detective was becoming annoyed at something.

"Is this really necessary, L.T.? I mean Lennie and I are still investigating and Profaci and Muller are still going through McCoy's cases. There hasn't been enough time before…I understand. We're on our way." He disconnected the call and put the cell back inside his jacket. _"DAMN!"_ he mumbled and struck the dashboard angrily with his fist.

"I sense the lieutenant said something you disagree with?" Briscoe remarked as he turned the key and started the engine. "Are you gonna keep it to yourself or are you gonna share with the class?"

Rey stared at Briscoe who could see the younger man's face crimson with anger.

"Van Buren says the feds are coming in per the District Attorney's request. Some unit calling themselves the BAU, and they're on their way from Quantico, Virginia. They should be here in a little over an hour give-or-take."

"The BAU? What the hell kinda unit are they supposed to be?"

"Not sure. They're with the FBI though. They call themselves profilers or some nonsense like that."

Briscoe sighed and shook his head sadly. "Profilers," he commented sarcastically. "Great. So we're supposed to work with 'em."

"That's what she said. Said she got a phone call from a Penelope Garcia and that they should be arriving in about an hour. She wants us to head back to the station so we'll be there when they arrive."

Briscoe shook his head and let out a deep breath as he pulled away from the curb. "Unbelievable. Well, Carmichael told us Schiff wasn't gonna be patient and she was right."

The two unhappy detectives headed for the 27th Precinct. They were not looking forward to working with the Feds.

* * *

Schiff paced back-and-forth holding a Styrofoam cup of now luke-warm coffee. He was terrified but was doing his best to hide it. The hopeful optimism he felt earlier had now been replaced with sheer terror. Terror that his friend had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

He felt like it had been hours since everything had changed. But in reality, it had only been a little over an hour. Taking a sip of his luke-warm coffee, Schiff was about to resume his pacing when the door to McCoy's room opened causing him to pause. He found himself standing face-to-face with Smythe. Adam's heart plummeted into his stomach when he saw the grim look on the doctor's face and expected the worst.

"Is he dead?" he asked with a quivering lower lip and moist eyes.

* * *

(1) Abby Carmichael tried one case showing her toughness as a prosecutor. It was PUNK, S9 episode 8.

(2) I did research to find the right drug to use and Narcan was the one I settled on. The interaction with drugs seems okay, but the reaction of a comatose patient to the side effects I'm a bit shaky on. So please bear with me as I need this for heightened tension in the story only.

(3)According to the series, Briscoe was divorced twice and estranged from his daughters, Cathy and Julia, although later in the series and before her murder by a drug dealer whom she testified against, Cathy and her father did kind of reconnect.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Is he dead?" asked Schiff, lower lip trembling and eyes moist as he struggled to keep himself together. He was totally unprepared to hear of Jack McCoy's death.

"Fortunately, he's still alive," the doctor replied with a faint smile. With eyes shut, there was a loud sigh of relief from Schiff. _Thank God he's still alive! _he told himself. Opening his eyes again he looked at the doctor who then continued. "His heart stopped but we managed to get it started again. It was touch-and-go for a while I must tell you."

"_Just what the hell happened?!"_ Schiff demanded to know.

Smythe exhaled deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. "It seems Mr. McCoy was poisoned," he explained sadly.

_Poisoned?!" _the older man exclaimed, shocked. _"How the hell did that happen?"_

"We haven't gotten the lab report yet, but we suspect a drug was put in his antibiotics IV bag. Something that was supposed to either kill him or at least keep him in a coma longer if not forever."

"Do you know what drug was used or how it got in the IV?"

"I suspect it was injected but not positive. As for the drug…we suspect it might be Narcan. That's a drug we use to counteract the effects of opioid meds such as morphine, Oxycontin, and heroin. It causes a person's blood pressure to rise, rapid heartbeat, sweating, and seizures. There are other side-effects, but those are the primary ones."

"I want a copy of that report when you get it," Schiff demanded.

"I understand," said Smythe. "I'll make certain you get a copy."

"And the police will need to check that IV bag themselves. Where is it?"

Smythe blew out a breath. "That could be a problem. Our policy is once an IV bag is thoroughly or partially empty, we make sure it is completely before we dispose of it in a special dumpster in the unit designated for IV bags only."

Schiff grunted. "Is that where it is now? In this dumpster?" He crossed his arms.

"Possibly. When full, the dumpster is emptied into an incinerator and the contents burned. I can't guarantee you the bag is still in the container. But the police are welcome to check." (1)

"And the nurse who replaced his IV?"

"While we investigate what happened, she has been suspended and will have no further contact with patients until we conclude our investigation."

Schiff massaged his forehead, then looked at Smythe again. "What effect does this have on Jack?" He was afraid to hear the answer.

"We don't know precisely at this point. We suspect that any progress he was making toward coming out of his coma may have been affected. In other words, he may not wake up as soon as we originally hoped. He might remain in it longer, or depending on the drug, permanently. We just don't know right now. We have, however, replaced his antibiotics IV bag with a new one, and checked all the equipment being used in his room. Everything is safe. But whether there is any long-lasting or permanent damage done to Mr. McCoy because of the poisoning won't be known until he wakes up. I'm sorry."

"So all we can do now is wait."

"I'm afraid so."

Schiff nodded listlessly. "Thank you, doctor."

Smythe grunted before he turned and walked away down the hall. Schiff ran a hand over his head, letting out a deep breath. Turning, he studied the four uniforms now posted outside McCoy's room, his expression neutral. He swore to himself he would ask Agent Hotchner, when he arrived, to assign his own men to replace the uniformed officers now standing guard just as a precaution.

He had been secretly overjoyed when one of the nurses informed him there was a phone call for him at the nurses' desk while he was waiting for Smythe to finish treating McCoy regarding his latest crisis. It had been Lt. Van Buren, informing him she had received a phone call from the BAU, and they were en-route to New York and should be arriving in about two hours.

It wasn't that he didn't have faith in the police to solve both the case and keep his ADA safe. It was that since a law enforcement issued weapon had been used in the shooting, he would feel his ADA safer with FBI agents guarding him. At least until the police had been cleared of any participation. Adam wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head. All he wanted to do right now was get back to McCoy, but there was something he needed to do first.

Glancing briefly again at the four uniforms, Schiff walked down the hall in the direction of the nurses' station. He needed to contact Van Buren and Abby and update them as to what just happened, and ask Van Buren if the BAU had arrived. He smiled slightly when he noticed Haylee as one of two nurses behind the counter. He was able to catch her attention. She approached him.

"We heard what happened and we're so very sorry."

Adam saw the sincerity on her face and in her eyes. "Thank you. I'm just grateful he's still with us."

"So are we. Now, how can I help you?"

"I need to use your phone to make two telephone calls if I may. They won't take long."

With a smile, Haylee moved the phone in front of him. "Help yourself," she said.

He picked up the receiver and pressed the buttons for the 27th Precinct then held the receiver to his ear. There was a ringing on the other end before a click was heard.

"Lieutenant Van Buren? It's Adam Schiff, District Attorney's office. Something's happened to Jack McCoy."

* * *

Van Buren had just hung up the receiver of her phone when movement outside her open office door caught her eye. She noticed two people walking through the door at the far end and enter into the squad room. One had long golden-blonde hair hanging below her shoulders, wearing a powder-blue blouse and dark-grey dress slacks with a matching jacket. Van Buren chuckled when she spied several of her male officers staring at the woman; some with appreciative smiles.

The man beside her was another story. He was tall and wearing a navy-blue suit, a white dress shirt and a red silk tie. His thick hair was jet black with wisps of it falling across his forehead. Even from a distance he was impressive-looking. But it was his eyes that captivated even Van Buren from where she sat. His eyes were dark brown and appeared to see right through a person. An amused grin crossed her face when she spotted several of her female officers eyeing the man up-and-down approvingly.

As the duo approached her office, she stood up behind her desk to greet them. When they entered, she extended her hand to the man who held it in a firm grip and shook hands.

"Anita Van Buren," she announced glancing between the two.

"Lieutenant. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner of the FBI and this is SSA Jennifer Jareau. We're with the BAU."

"There's only two of you? I had the impression..."

"You'll meet the rest of my team later."

"Fine. Have a seat," Van Buren said and gestured toward the two chairs facing her desk. Hotch closed the office door before he and JJ sat down while Van Buren returned to her seat behind her desk. She interlaced her fingers on top of her desk.

"What can you tell us so far?" asked JJ.

"We're still investigating what happened."

Hotch crossed his legs. "I understand that, lieutenant. But the FBI is taking charge of this investigation as Jack McCoy is the fifth lawyer shot in the last three years. That makes this the work of a serial which is our specialty."

The lieutenant let out a deep breath. "No offense, but my detectives are not going to like handing over their case to the feds."

Hotch nodded. "I understand. But this is now a BAU case. However, we will appreciate any and all help your detectives can give us in helping solve this case." He sensed the woman's hesitation. "Look, we're not here to hijack the case from your detectives, lieutenant. But when there's a serial killer we take charge of a case. However, your squad will get credit for any arrest."

Mulling things over in her head, Van Buren nodded her understanding. "That's okay with me. By-the-way, the detectives investigating the case are on their way back here. You can speak with them once they arrive. But until they do, where do you want to start?"

"For starters, we'd like for you to tell us what your detectives have uncovered in their investigation into who shot ADA Jack McCoy," said JJ tossing a strand of long blonde hair over her shoulder.

* * *

Schiff was again seated in the hard plastic chair beside McCoy's bed gripping his friend's hand. He took in and let out a deep breath and shook his head. His eyes fell on his friend.

"Jack, I am so sorry this happened to you just when you were turning a corner. Now it looks like you're back at the starting gate again. But I promise you we're going to find out who poisoned you. You have my word on that."

Sensing he was not alone, he turned his head and looked around to see who had entered the room.

Two people, one an attractive woman with straight jet black hair just below her shoulders with dark brown eyes, wearing black dress slacks with a matching jacket and a blood-red blouse, stood beside a slender and lanky young man who looked more like a college student. His eyes were hazel and his hair wavy brown. He was wearing brown corduroy pants, a light yellow shirt beneath a brown sweater-vest and brown loafers. Both had holsters with guns strapped to their belts. They approached Schiff who slowly stood up but did not leave McCoy's side.

"Who are you?" he asked warily. This time he would do his best to protect his friend.

The man and woman reached into their pockets and pulled out credentials for the older man to see. Schiff studied the gold shields and ID cards: Emily Prentiss and Doctor Spencer Reid, FBI.

"You're FBI?" he asked, his body relaxing. Emily and Reid came closer until they stood beside the bed. They stared at the unconscious man lying in it.

"Emily Prentiss and Doctor Spencer Reid, BAU," said Emily in her business-like voice as she and Reid put away their credentials.

"This is Jack McCoy?" Reid asked quietly.

"This is him," Adam replied. "He may not look like it right now, but he's the most brilliant prosecutor I know and he's like a son to me."

Prentiss moistened her lips. "We're sorry for what happened to your friend." She paused momentarily. "Mr. Schiff, we hate to tell you this, but Mr. McCoy's shooting is the fifth shooting of an attorney in three years. But fortunately for us he survived the attempt."

"And the others are…"

"They're all dead, sir," Reid answered grimly.

"My God," Schiff exclaimed as he slowly sat down, stunned, on the edge of the bed near McCoy's outstretched hand. "So you're saying what happened to Jack is part of some kind of conspiracy? To do what?"

"Yes we are and we not exactly sure," Prentiss said. She glanced at McCoy. Thanks to her supervisor, she felt as if she knew this man whom she had just met. "Our boss, Agent Hotchner, also wants us to check on Mr. McCoy's condition. How is he by-the-way?"

"Not good. He was starting to show signs of coming out of his coma when somebody poisoned him earlier."

"Why would somebody do that?" asked Prentiss with narrowed eyes.

"I have no idea why. I suppose it was to kill him."

"Or somebody heard he might be coming out of his coma and decided to do something about it," Reid remarked.

Schiff stared at the young agent incredulously.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Not exactly sure. I was alone with Jack when a nurse came in to change the IV supplying him with antibiotics for the pneumonia and left. A short time later the machines went haywire and so did the heart monitor. He developed trouble breathing despite the ventilator, sweating, began having seizures, and his heart stopped. I pressed the patient buzzer and the doctor and three nurses came in. It took over an hour, but they managed to get his heart started again."

"Anything else?"

the older man massaged his forehead. "The doctor said a drug was put into the bag with the antibiotics. I asked him what effect all this would have on Jack. He said it could delay him coming out of his coma or he might never come out of it. He won't know until he wakes up if he does."

"Who's his doctor?" asked Reid.

"Horace Smythe. He's been taking care of Jack since he was admitted."

"We'll need to speak with him in length," Prentiss told Spencer glancing at him. She then turned back to Schiff. "We assume the IV bag with the antibiotics in it was replaced?"

"It was. I asked Smythe about it because I knew the police would want to check it. He told me IV bags whether they be half empty or nearly empty are completely emptied and placed in a special dumpster within the unit. Later they're put in an incinerator and burned."

Prentiss checked her watch seeing it was late. She looked at her partner.

"Reid, there may still be time. Go try and locate that IV bag that was used. We need to see if and how it was tampered with. With luck, you might be able to stop it from being incinerated. I'll let Hotch know."

With a nod, Reid hurriedly left the hospital room to carry out his mission. Now alone, Emily sat down on the edge of the bed beside Adam Schiff.

"While Reid's checking on that IV bag, what else can you tell me about this shooting and please start at the beginning," she said.

* * *

(1) Information on disposing of IV bags is from the site called All nurses. com.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The doors hissed open when the elevator reached the tenth floor at One Hogan Place. Two men stepped out, and looked around hoping to find the woman they were looking for, but didn't see her. Spotting an employee at a nearby desk, they started to approach her and inquire when a young man approached them first having come from the opposite direction.

Having noticed the two strangers appeared to be 'lost,' he decided to hurry these two who he considered to be 'inappropriately' dressed strangers, out of the office before somebody noticed them.

"Can I help you?" he asked looking between them with disdain on his face which he didn't bother to hide.

One, an African American, somewhere in his thirties, was completely bald except for a goatee, with dark, piercing eyes and appeared solidly built, like he worked out as evidenced by his exposed forearms. He wore a dark green pullover short-sleeved sweater, charcoal grey jeans and boots, and had a holster strapped to his belt. To the man, he assumed this African American was probably trouble. The other was a white older man, somewhere in his late sixties to mid-seventies. He had thick black hair and a goatee both streaked with grey, and brown eyes. He wore blue jeans, a white shirt open at the collar, a black cloth jacket, and highly polished brown boots. He couldn't figure out what this older man represented, but he suspected it couldn't be good either.

"Yes," one man said as they both produced their credentials showing they were with the FBI. They had ignored the man's snide attitude as they had seen it before and were used to it.

The man swallowed nervously realizing his gross error in judgement. "What can I do for you, agents?" he stammered almost tripping over himself.

"We're here to see an Abby Carmichael," one said, all business-like.

"Yes, sir. Please follow me."

Putting away their credentials, the agents followed the man until they came to a closed door on which was printed in gold lettering: _'Jack McCoy: Executive Assistant District Attorney.' _He glanced back at the two agents and knocked on the door, hearing a muffled voice on the other side giving the knocker permission to come in. He opened the door, peeked inside, and saw Abby seated behind the dark-colored desk and two plainclothes men he suspected were detectives seated in front of the desk.

The man nervously licked his lips. "Miss Carmichael? There are two FBI agents here to speak with you."

"Okay, Give me a minute," she announced as she got to her feet.

The man grinned nervously and hurriedly walked away leaving the agents alone. Less than two minutes later, Abby Carmichael walked out closing the door behind her. The older man immediately took in a deep breath. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he'd seen plenty in his lifetime.

Carmichael had thick black hair cascading below her shoulders and the most beautiful dark brown eyes. He figured her to be about 5' 9" or 5' 10" and somewhere around 140-145 pounds. He smiled charmingly hoping they could solve this case quickly so he could ask her on a date before they returned to Quantico.

"Hello?" Abby said feeling uncomfortable being stared at by the older man.

Noticing his partner's staring, African American agent jabbed his elbow into the older man's side which brought him out of his daydreaming.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

Carmichael smiled, her cheeks tinged with pink. "That's all right, agent. And thank you for the compliment. I was informed the FBI was coming. So what can I do for you?"

"I'm SSA David Rossi and this is my partner SSA Derek Morgan. We're with the BAU," Rossi explained as he and Morgan produced their credentials for her perusal. "A Mr. Schiff asked for our assistance."

"I'm aware he asked for your unit's help with this case. I just didn't expect you here this soon much less only two of you. I got the impression there were more of you."

"There are," said Morgan. "The others are checking out other things right now."

Abby nodded. She had heard of the BAU and their accomplishments, and couldn't wait to meet the rest of the team. Hopefully they could help find out who shot Jack.

"Is there somewhere we can talk, Miss Carmichael?" he asked noticing others were looking at them and trying to listen in on their conversation.

"Please call me Abby," she told them with a smile. "We can borrow Mr. Schiff's office. He's at the hospital with Jack so we'll have privacy." She led the way to another part of the floor until they came to another door marked: _'Adam Schiff: District Attorney' _and opened it, allowing the agents to enter first before she followed, and closing the door behind her. The agents sat down in the two chairs facing the desk while she sat down in the plush chair behind Adam's desk. She interlaced her fingers and rested her hands atop the desk. "What do you want to know and where do you want to begin?"

Rossi crossed his legs and glanced at Morgan before turning his attention to Carmichael. "You were in court with Jack McCoy when the shooting started is that correct?"

Abby let out a deep breath not really wanting to think back to that terrible day. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yes. Jack and I had finished prosecuting a case and the jury had just rendered its verdict."

"And what was the verdict?" he asked.

"Guilty on all counts," she said with a smile.

"We assume you and Mr. McCoy must have been ecstatic," Rossi added with a smile of his own.

"We were very pleased. Without much evidence, it was a difficult case to prosecute. If it hadn't been for the testimonies of Detectives Briscoe and Curtis the outcome might have been different."

"We're sure. Miss Carmichael, after the verdict, is that when the shooting started?" asked Morgan.

"Shortly afterward, yes."

"And McCoy was hit immediately?"

Abby bit her lower lip. "We…I ducked behind the table and wasn't paying attention. I heard something strike the table before landing next to me. When I looked up I saw it was Jack. He was laying on his back and bleeding from his head. I also saw blood pooling beneath him." She swallowed hard at the memory. "It was horrible," she said in a thick voice and moistened her lips. "I…I was scared for him."

"We can only imagine," said Rossi sympathetically.

"No you can't," she admitted struggling to control herself as she relived that moment. "I was so afraid for him. My only thought was how to get to him and help him. But with all the shooting I was afraid to move. All I could do was pray he was alive."

"Please don't take this the wrong way," interjected Morgan. "But how come you weren't hit? I mean, you were standing right beside him. Close enough to have been shot as well."

"I…I don't know." She secretly admitted why she hadn't been shot had never crossed her mind…until now.

Morgan and Rossi glanced at each other then back at the woman. Rossi straightened up in his chair. "Abby, we know this is difficult, but before we go any further, we'd like to try something."

"What?"

"Something we call a cognitive interview," he explained. "I'll need you to take a deep breath and relax. Then close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice."

Abby looked at him, having doubts about what he was suggesting.

"Trust me. You'd be amazed at what you remember that you buried in your subconscious without realizing it. This will bring it to the surface."

"Fine." Abby let out a deep breath, let her body relax, then closed her eyes. She let out another breath.

Rossi allowed several seconds to pass before he began. "Okay. Now I want you to go back to the day of the shooting. You and McCoy are in the courtroom. You just heard the verdict being read."

_**(The Cognitive Interview):**_

Abby smiled. _"We were pleased. It was a guilty verdict."_

"What did you and McCoy do after you heard the verdict?"

"_Detectives Briscoe and Curtis congratulated us on getting a conviction and wanted to celebrate, but Jack passed. He and I were putting papers in our briefcases." _Her expression suddenly changed and her body tensed. Rossi and Morgan noticed the change.

"It's all right. We're right here with you. Nobody's gonna hurt you. Now, just before the shooting started, what happened?" asked Rossi.

Abby tilted her head as a forgotten memory came to her. _"I…I was packing things in my briefcase and I dropped my ink pen on the floor. I started to bend down and pick it up, but Jack bent down to retrieve it for me instead. Jack, he...he was just starting to stand up when the shooting started."_

"Do you know where he was hit first?" asked Morgan.

"_I…I'm not exactly sure. He had started to stand up when I noticed a look of pain on his face, but I didn't see him get hit." _

"So he wasn't shot in the head first like you thought?"

Abby tilted her head to the side_. "No. He wasn't standing upright when the shooting started. Now I remember. The first shot just missed his head. It struck the table we used during the trial. The bullet struck the edge of the table between where I stood and Jack was kneeling. It was where his head had been when the shooting started. If he hadn't started to stand up, he would have been struck in the head. Another of the shots hit him in the lower back. His legs gave out and he fell to the floor. His head struck the table before he fell. But I was so afraid he was lying dead beside me that I forgot seeing his head strike the table."_

Abby's eyes, though still closed, narrowed as a new memory came to her.

"What is it, Abby? You remember something else?"

"_The shooter wasn't aiming at me."_

"Why do you say that?"

"_Other than the first shot that struck the edge of the table, the other shots weren't fired at me."_

"How do you know that?" asked Rossi.

"_The other shots came nowhere near me. They all seem to be aimed at Jack." _

"How many shots overall did you hear by the time the shooting stopped?"

"_Four…maybe five. Then all I heard was the screaming. But I couldn't think about that. All I could think about was Jack. Finding out if he was still alive and getting him help. When I reached __him, he wouldn't open his eyes for me when I called his name and touched his shoulder."_ Her voice became shaky, her lower lip trembled, and tears ran down her cheeks. Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring at the agents. She wiped her cheeks with her fingertips.

_**(End of Cognitive Interview)**_

Rossi and Morgan smiled. "You did well," Morgan said.

"I did?" she stammered trying to gather herself.

"Yes," said Rossi. "Apparently you were responsible for McCoy not being killed."

"How'd I manage that?"

"When you dropped your pen and McCoy bent down to pick it up for you, he was just getting to his feet at the same time the shooting started. But because he had moved at the last moment, he missed being struck in the head and was struck in the back instead. If he had been standing erect he would've been hit in the head and probably killed."

Abby mulled over what she had been told but still didn't seem convinced.

"You're saying I was responsible for Jack not being killed?" she asked.

"In our opinion, he'd be in the morgue right now instead of the hospital," added Morgan. "You saved his life."

"For now," she sadly admitted with slumping shoulders.

"Yes, for now," Rossi agreed. "But for now means he has a chance to recover whereas he could've been dead with no chance of recovery. So you were responsible for there being a 'for now.' Don't sell yourself short, Abby. In our minds, there's no doubt you saved Jack McCoy's life."

Abby's face brightened considerably. "Thank you. Now, what else can I tell you?"

* * *

Van Buren and Agents Hotchner and Jareau were still talking in her office when the door opened, and in walked Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis. Curtis let the door shut behind him loudly.

Hotch and JJ stood up as did Van Buren, but she remained behind her desk. She noticed the incensed look in Curtis's eyes and sensed trouble brewing.

"Detectives, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner and SSA Jennifer Jareau of the BAU. Agents, Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis."

Briscoe, although not happy, stuck out his hand which Hotch shook.

"Detective Briscoe," Hotch said.

"Agent." Lennie, having over twenty years on the force, had experienced just about everything. And the feds getting involved in one of their cases was nothing new.

The detective then shook hands with JJ. He smiled at the blonde and thought her beautiful. _If I was several years younger, _he thought to himself and then noticed her wedding ring. _Her husband's a lucky bastard!_

Hotch then extended his hand to Curtis. The detective stared at the agent's outstretched hand with disdain, before directing that same disdain to the agent. Keeping his expression neutral, Hotch lowered his hand. This kind of reception wasn't new to them as it happened many, many times when they were invited in somewhere.

Van Buren, however, was extremely displeased with her junior detective's behavior.

Hotch stared at the junior detective keeping his face neutral.

"Look, detective," he began. "As I told your lieutenant, we're not here to highjack this case. But since it involves a serial killer, we are taking charge of it."

"Serial killers are our specialty," JJ added.

"Uh, excuse me," interrupted Briscoe. "But what serial? We only have a single shooting."

"Not true, detective," JJ added. "Jack McCoy is the fifth attorney to be shot in the last three years. The other four are all dead."

Lennie blew out a deep breath as he sat on the edge of a filing cabinet while Rey remained standing and glaring at both agents.

"Where'd these so-called other shootings take place?" he snarled, not taking his eyes off the agents.

"Sandor O'Brien in Miami; Jonathan Brathwaite in California; Bennett Chase in Colorado, and Bryan Loggins in Ohio," said JJ. "Each was shot, in court, just after a guilty verdict was read at the end of a trial they prosecuted."

"And each was shot with a gun stolen from a uniformed officer's home, and was later used to shoot the officer who owned the gun," added Hotch. "Finally, the same gun was later used to kill an attorney before being discarded in the courthouse afterward."

"And _that_ gives you the right to come in here and take our case?" Rey hissed, his eyes hardening and his face turning a deep crimson. "You have _a lot of nerve!"_

"_Detective!" _Van Buren shouted jumping to her feet.

Hotch didn't respond. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on Curtis. "I'm sorry you feel this way, detective. We're only here to help."

"Rey, c'mon. They're just doin' their job," Briscoe said softly as he stood up hoping to diffuse a potentially explosive situation.

"Detective Curtis," Van Buren snarled, glaring at the junior detective. "I suggest you take a walk and cool down before you say something you shouldn't!"

His anger simmering, Curtis waved a hand in disgust at his boss and the agents, yanked open the door, and stormed out, slamming the door shut loudly behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Van Buren slowly sat back down in her chair, pyramiding her fingertips in front of her face, elbows on the desk. Her eyes rested on Hotch and JJ. Briscoe sat quietly on the edge of a nearby file cabinet. "I apologize for Detective Curtis's behavior," she said quietly. "I knew he would be upset, but I never expected such rudeness from him. He isn't normally like that."

JJ let out a deep breath. "No need to apologize, lieutenant. We understand how when we come into a case can have an adverse effect on some members of law enforcement. Believe it or not, we've faced it before."

Looking beyond the agents, Van Buren stared at Briscoe.

"Lennie, show Agents Hotchner and Jareau to one of our conference rooms where they can set up during their stay here."

Briscoe got to his feet. "No problem," he said. "What about Curtis, L.T.?" he added as an afterthought.

"Leave him alone for now. Hopefully he'll cool down after a while," Van Buren sighed wearily. "And if he doesn't…I'll deal with it. Just give him some space for the time being."

"If you say so," Lennie said opening the door and glancing sideways at Hotch and JJ. "If you agents will follow me to your temporary abode." The agents followed him back into the squad room, and to the far corner where the conference rooms were located. He opened the door and held it open, allowing the agents to walk inside.

"This is fine, detective," Hotch said noticing eight metal chairs, four on each side, and the long metal table in between them. "Thank your lieutenant for us. All we need are two white boards."

"We can get those for you. Anything else?"

"That should do it," Hotch replied.

Briscoe let out a deep breath. "Yeah, well…listen, can I ask you guys something?"

"Of course."

But before anybody could speak, there was the muffled ringing of a cell phone.

"It's mine," Hotch replied reaching inside his jacket. Taking out his phone, he checked the Caller ID. "It's Garcia," he announced and pressed the speaker button while holding the cell in the center of his hand. "Go ahead, Garcia. JJ and a detective are with me and you're on speaker."

"Then I'll do my best to keep it clean, my liege."

JJ covered her mouth with one hand. But she couldn't stop the chuckle or hide the smirk.

"By the way, sorry it took so long to get back to you," Garcia explained. "But being the brilliant technical genius that I am, I wanted to have all my baby chicks in a row before I called and…"

"What did you find, Penelope," Hotch said cutting short her rambling.

"Sorry, sir. According to my keen powers of research, I found no contact of any kind between your Jack McCoy and any of our four deceased legal eagles."

"Who's this Garcia?" whispered Briscoe leaning forward and bringing his head close to JJ's.

She smiled. "Penelope Garcia. She's our technical analyst back in Quantico. She can find anything on anybody. She's also the heart and soul of our team. Without her, we're nothing."

Briscoe could hear the affection in her voice, and got a sense of the closeness of this unit. They were like a family; although an unconventional one.

"It was a longshot at best," said Hotch. "How about the other thing?" he asked with a careful eye aimed directly at Briscoe.

"Nothing yet, Mon Capitan. But I'm still checking. It's just gonna take time."

"Keep checking and let me know if you find anything."

"Yes, sir. Garcia out." The call disconnected and Hotch slipped the cell back in his pocket. Folding his arms, he looked at Briscoe.

"What did she mean by _'your'_ Jack McCoy?" Briscoe asked, curious. "You know the counselor?"

"He's a friend. We met several months ago while my team was in New York on a case. It was a chance meeting in a bar."

The detective nodded and arched an eyebrow. "And my liege? Mon Capitan?" he smirked looking at the Unit Chief.

Hotch grinned. "Penelope Garcia is one of a kind. She's not what one would expect in a tech analyst. But she is the best there is at what she does. We wouldn't be as successful as we are without her." He paused. "But I believe you had a question, detective?"

"Yeah. Is this profiling stuff for real? Or is it some kind of hocus-pocus?"

"Believe us detective," said JJ. "It's not hocus-pocus by any means. It's simply observing human behavior."

Lennie smirked, not believing them. "Okay. Profile me," he challenged sitting on the edge of the table and folding his arms staring at JJ.

The blonde moistened her lips. "You're divorced with two children, probably daughters, but you aren't close to either of them but not by choice. However, you're more concerned about your younger one because of a substance abuse problem, either drugs or alcohol, and that worries you greatly. In fact, you blame yourself for her addiction as you had a substance abuse problem of your own, my guess is alcohol. Your drinking cost you your marriage, your relationship with your daughters, and nearly your job. Your vice is pool and are an expert player. To your credit, you've been sober for the past twelve years until you witnessed an event that caused you to fall off the wagon so to speak, and start drinking again. My guess is you witnessed an execution. You wanted to forget your part in the arrest of the person who was executed, but you couldn't." JJ then turned to Hotch.

"You were so inebriated, detective, you needed help to get home after hours of drinking," added Hotch. "So a friend offered to drive you home. But this friend, while driving you home, was involved in a fatal car accident, and you blamed that death on yourself believing if you hadn't been drunk and needed a ride home, your friend wouldn't have been on the road at the time. But the alcohol didn't help you forget. But with the help of AA, you were able to get sober again and have stayed sober. But you still blame yourself for your friend's death." (1)

"Wow," was all Briscoe could utter.

"So how'd we'd do?" JJ asked with a smile.

"As I said…wow. How'd you know all that stuff if you don't mind my asking."

"You don't wear a wedding band, but you rub the area on your ring finger where a ring would have been, like someone who misses having one," explained JJ. "And as far as your daughters are concerned, I saw two photos on your desk. One girl looked older than the other. There is also a sadness in your eyes reserved for a child with a serious problem and the regret of a father who isn't as close to his children as he'd like to be. And you being a former alcoholic tells me her problem has to be either alcohol or drugs, and you blame yourself for it just as any father would." She glanced at Hotch.

"Also," continued Hotch. "Being an alcoholic wreaks havoc with any marriage, and yours was no exception."

"And the falling off the wagon part?"

"You started drinking again trying to forget witnessing the execution and to help you deal with your part in it."

"And the pool playing?"

JJ smiled. "Lucky guess. Police are known to shoot pool or play poker. You strike me as a pool player."

Lennie ran a hand over his hair. "I guess there _is_ something to this profiling business after all."

"We do know what we're doing, detective," Hotch replied with a grin. He let out a deep breath. "Now, there is something you can do for us."

"What's that?"

"We've heard from your lieutenant. Now we need you to tell us what you and Detective Curtis uncovered in you investigation so far. We can compare that with what your lieutenant told us."

Briscoe sighed. "Why? You think the lieutenant forgot something?"

"No. But during the course of yours and Detective Curtis's investigation, there may be facts that your lieutenant wasn't aware of." Hotch folded his arms.

"Okay. You want me to start at the beginning or what?"

"Please."

"Okay. Here goes."

So for the next two hours, Lennie Briscoe told Hotch and JJ all that had been uncovered in their investigation.

* * *

Emily Prentiss let out a deep breath and tossed a loose strand of her raven-hair over her shoulder. She still sat beside Schiff on the bed. For two hours she had listened to the older man tell her everything he knew. Inwardly, she wondered how Reid was making out with trying to save that IV bag from being incinerated and being lost forever.

Schiff glanced over at his unconscious friend, then turned his eyes forward and looked straight at the door.

"Tell me something, Agent Prentiss…" he said not looking at her.

"If I can."

"Can you honestly tell me you will catch this bastard?"

Emily mulled over her answer before she spoke. She didn't want to lie to the man. But she didn't want to give him false hope either. She moistened her lips.

"Honestly, it won't be easy. But with the help of the police, I believe we can find the shooter of Jack McCoy."

Schiff nodded his head. "That's good," he added.

Just then, the door opened and Spencer Reid slowly walked inside. To Prentiss and Schiff he looked unhappy.

"Well?" ask Prentiss with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"I was too late," he explained grimly. "By the time I found the dumpster the contents had been emptied into the incinerator and destroyed. The IV bag is gone."

"_Dammit!"_ Prentiss swore under her breath.

"But we still might be able to prove it was tampered with even without it."

"How so?" asked Emily.

"I spoke with a janitor who emptied the special dumpster. His name's Cyrus Willis. He was responsible for emptying all the dumpsters into the incinerator. When he emptied the special dumpster, he noticed one of the bags had a small puncture mark near the sealed top of it. But because he hadn't heard about the poisoning, he thought perhaps the bag was damaged and this was why it was being thrown away, and tossed it in the incinerator. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Prentiss said. "At least we know how the IV was tampered with if we can take what this janitor says at face value."

"It fits," Reid agreed. "I suspected the drug had been injected into the IV bag because it's the only way it could have been given to the patient without anybody noticing anything odd. That wouldn't work if it was given orally."

Prentiss checked her watch sighing wearily. "Reid, we need to head to the 27th Precinct and meet up with Hotch and JJ, wait for Morgan and Rossi, and compare notes. We can then go to our hotel and get some rest." She looked sympathetically at Schiff and could see the pain in the older man's eyes. "We're not giving up, Mr. Schiff. We'll be starting fresh in the morning. But for now we all need to get some sleep. That being said, can we drop you some place?"

Schiff chuckled. "Any other time I would say yes. But somebody needs to be here in case Jack wakes up. Thank you for asking anyway."

With a smile, Prentiss got to her feet and she and Reid started toward the door.

"Before you two leave, there's just one more thing," Adam said.

Both agents paused and turned toward the older man. "What is it?" Emily asked.

"I assume the agent you refer to as Hotch is Agent Hotchner."

"It is."

"When you meet with him, tell him I'd like to meet with him here. Jack had told me about his chance meeting with Agent Hotchner when your team was in New York several months ago. I'd like to discuss something important with him."

"Is there a message we need to pass on to Agent Hotchner so he'll know what this meeting is about?"

"Yes. I need him to assign federal agents to stand guard outside McCoy's room." He noticed the agents preparing to respond that Jack already had police guards. "I'm aware there are uniforms standing guard already. But because a police officer may be involved in the shooting, I can't be sure an officer won't try again, and I'd feel a hell of a lot better if the FBI is guarding him instead."

"We can't promise anything, but we'll inform Agent Hotchner of your request."

* * *

"We understand you have two detectives from the 27th Precinct looking through McCoy's past cases to see if anybody stands out," said Morgan.

Carmichael sighed. "So far we have about fifteen suspect cases. But there are still more to go through."

"How old are these cases?" asked Rossi.

Abby shrugged. "The earliest one is ten years old; some are older. The only current case is Jacob Herlihy who was just convicted. Of the fifteen suspect cases we have so far, five are still open."

"Still open? What does that mean if I may ask?" asked Morgan.

"Jack is keeping these cases open because the victims are still alive, but will die in a certain number of months or years at the hands of others who haven't been prosecuted yet. When the victims finally die, he will prosecute the accused individuals at that time. There's no statute-of-limitations on murder."

"Let me see if I understand this. Let's say you have a doctor who misdiagnoses a patient, and this misdiagnosis causes said patient to die in let's say…six months. Are you saying that although the doctor is guilty in the eyes of the law, McCoy doesn't prosecute right away but keeps the case open until the patient dies and then prosecutes the doctor?" (2)

"Precisely."

Rossi pyramided his fingertips in front of his mouth with elbows on the armrests. "Of these five open cases, are there any suspects, in your opinion, who bear a grudge against McCoy?"

Abby pursed her lips as she racked her brain. "There's at least one I can think of. A Doctor Christian Varick."

"And he is…?" Asked Rossi.

"He was a psychiatrist who included a student named Alan Sawyer as part of his drug study. Alan was labeled as a schizophrenic who heard voices telling him to hurt people. He was given an experimental drug as part of the study. The drug worked for a while,and the voices ceased, but eventually it stopped working, and the voices returned. Alan claimed the voices told him to murder Greg Franklin, a janitor at a local university for nine years. McCoy found out that Varick had stopped doing PET scans two years earlier, and didn't realize Alan was not really schizophrenic. But Varick wanted to keep the grant money coming in so he cut corners by cutting out the PET scans." (3)

"What's wrong with Sawyer if I may ask?" Morgan was fascinated.

"Sawyer has a brain tumor which originally was operable, but after two years of being untreated, it became inoperable. He now has one-to-two years to live because of Varick's recklessness. McCoy believes that if Varick had done the PET scans as he was supposed to as part of his study, the tumor would have been discovered early and surgically removed."

"And Greg Franklin would still be alive," said Morgan.

"So once Alan is deceased, McCoy will prosecute Doctor Varick," said Rossi.

"He'll be adding an additional charge of murder to the original indictment. The original charge is for Greg Franklin, and the additional charge will be for the death of Alan Sawyer."

"Has anybody talked to Varick yet?" asked Morgan.

"Nobody's been able to find him. He skipped town right after Jack revealed he would keep the case open until such time he could add the additional charge of murder."

"Did Varick ever threaten McCoy when the counselor revealed he was a hack?"

"Not in so many words. But he was not very happy that Jack planned to expose him."

Morgan and Rossi exchanged looks. "Looks like we have another suspect," said Rossi.

"Is this Varick computer savvy?" asked Rossi.

"Not that we know of," said Abby. "But I can't see him having the guts to shoot Jack."

Rossi shrugged. "In our experience, we've learned it's the least likely UnSubs you have to be mindful of."

"UnSubs?"

"Short for Unknown Subjects."

"Miss Carmichael, when the rest of McCoy's past cases have been gone through, we're gonna need to look through the open ones ourselves," said Morgan. "We promise you'll get them back once we're done with them."

"No problem. As long as we get them back," said Abby.

Without warning, his cellphone rang. Morgan reached into and removed the cell from his pocket and checked the Caller ID.

"It's Hotch," he announced to Rossi, and put the phone to his ear. "Yeah, Hotch. Got it. We'll be there." He ended the call and put the cell back in his pocket. He looked at Rossi. "Hotch wants us at the 27th Precinct. Reid and Prentiss are on their way back and he wants us there as well so we can correlate everything before we call it a night and get some rest." He got up from his chair and glanced at the older man who was also getting to his feet.

* * *

(1) AFTERSHOCK, Episode 23, was the season ending episode of Season 6. McCoy, Kincaid, Briscoe, and Curtis all witness an execution of a criminal they arrested and convicted. It was the first and only episode of the series that did not involve a crime. But instead dealt with the unique and different reactions of each of the characters to the execution, and culminate in personal tragedies for each of them. It also marked the exit of Jill Hennessy (Claire Kincaid) who is killed in a car accident which injures an inebriated Detective Briscoe whom she is driving home from a bar. She had originally gone to pick up Jack McCoy from the same bar, but he had left earlier. And Detective Curtis has a sexual encounter with a girl he meets in a park which will lead to trouble in his marriage in subsequent seasons.

(2) DOUBLE BLIND is Episode 6, Season 7. A young boy named Alan Sawyer, murders a janitor and the experimental meds he takes for his schizophrenia is blamed for the murder. Turns out Alan has an inoperable brain tumor which at one time was operable but the doctor, Christian Varick, misdiagnoses it as schizophrenia and continues with the experimental meds. As a result, Alan was given 1-2 years to live. McCoy kept the case open to add the extra murder charge and prosecute the doctor for both the murders of Alan Sawyer and Greg Franklin.

(3) PET stands for Position Emission Tomography. A PET scan is used by doctors to check for diseases in your body.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Morgan and Rossi walked into the Conference room at the 27th Precinct. They noticed JJ busy listing the facts they already knew on one white board. On the other board, photos of the five attorneys were taped at the top side-by-side. Hotch was standing beside the head of the table with hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress trousers and staring at the photos, especially McCoy's.

"Nice digs, man," Morgan kidded looking around the room. He plopped down in the nearest chair. Rossi stood behind the chair next to Morgan's, his hands gripping its back. He stared at his best friend's back. He didn't need to see Aaron's face to know his best friend was scared; scared and worried. Scared and worried that McCoy would end up like the other four.

"So, Aaron," he said. "Anything new to report?"

"Some," Hotch replied turning around and facing his two agents, hands still in his pockets. "How about you and Morgan? You get to speak with Abby Carmichael?"

"That we did." He watched as JJ moved to the other board and began to list the names of their four suspects beneath the photos: Malcolm Herlihy; Estelle Herlihy; Simon Heffner; and a question mark below the word 'cop.' "Without giving the specifics, we can add another suspect to the equation." This time the blonde paused and looked around.

"_Another _suspect?" the blonde asked, stunned. "That now makes five. Who is it?"

"Doctor Christian Varick," said Morgan. JJ turned again and added the name to the list.

The door to the conference room opened again causing everyone to look around. Prentiss and Reid walked inside, and Reid closed the door behind him. Prentiss pulled out a chair on the opposite side of Morgan, and exhaled deeply as she fell down in it. Reid quietly sat down on the opposite side of Rossi. His eyes looked at the list of suspects JJ had written.

Hotch looked at Rossi. "Hold off for a moment Dave," he said. Rossi nodded his understanding. Hotch could tell from Emily's expression there was a question. "What is it, Prentiss?" he asked the brunette.

Emily sighed wearily. "Hotch, District Attorney Schiff asked if he could meet with you at the hospital. He also wants you to have agents posted outside McCoy's room until the case is solved."

"Aren't there uniforms posted outside his room already?" asked Morgan. Prentiss nodded. "Then why does he want agents replacing the uniforms?"

Emily looked back and forth between her boss and Morgan. "Since a cop could be the shooter, I suspect he'd feel better not having uniforms guarding McCoy." She paused for a moment. "Makes perfect sense to me."

"Does to me as well," Hotch concurred. "I'll meet with Mr. Schiff tomorrow morning. I'll also have the uniform guards replaced with agents from the New York office before noon. That should ease his mind." He then crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the rest of his team. "Getting back to the matter at hand, what have you and Reid found out so far?" He glanced again at the older man. "I haven't forgotten about you and Morgan, Dave. I'll come back to you later."

Emily clasped her hands together on top of the desk. She looked at her supervisor.

"When Reid and I spoke with Mr. Schiff, we found him to be a very nice man who's extremely worried about his ADA. He refuses to leave the hospital and wants to be there when McCoy wakes up."

"The guy's in a coma," Morgan pointed out. "He could have a long wait."

"I know. But you didn't see him, Morgan. He considers McCoy a son and wants to be there for him. Reid and I offered to drive him home, but he won't leave."

"Maybe when agents are guarding McCoy instead of regular police, he'll feel better about leaving the hospital if just for a day," said JJ.

"Maybe. Hopefully," added Emily. "I really feel bad for him, JJ. Schiff is not a young man by any means. He looks exhausted."

"How is McCoy by-the-way?" Hotch interrupted, looking concerned.

Reid chewed his lower lip having not spoken before now. "We already knew he's in a coma, paralyzed below the waist, and on a ventilator. But what we didn't know and were told by Mr. Schiff, was that he was starting to come out of his coma before he was poisoned. But because of the poisoning, when he'll come out of it, or if there be any long-lasting effects are unknown at this time."

Hotch bowed his head and closed his eyes momentarily. _Poisoned! My God! _He told himself. When he looked up again, his eyes fell on the young genius. "Do we know what drug was used?"

"We're not sure yet," Spencer replied. "We're still waiting on the lab report."

"We need to see that report when it's ready."

"No problem," Prentiss promised. "Schiff demanded a copy of it as well. I'm sure he'll make certain we get a copy."

"Who's Jack's doctor" asked the Unit Chief.

"A Doctor Horace Smythe. He's been caring for him since he was admitted."

Hotch made a mental note to speak with the doctor after speaking with Schiff.

"Do we know how the drug was administered?" asked Rossi.

"It was injected in the antibiotics IV bag with a syringe," Reid explained. "I tried to recover the bag but I was too late." He explained how used IV bags are disposed of.

"_Damn!"_ Rossi cursed under his breath.

"Hoping to stop the bag from being destroyed, I was able to find the janitor who emptied the dumpsters with the IV bags into the incinerator. Name's Cyrus Willis. He told me he noticed one bag had a puncture like from a syringe near the sealed top and assumed that was why it was being destroyed. Unfortunately, he hadn't heard about the poisoning so he went ahead and threw it into the incinerator with the others."

"And the nurse who brought in the poisoned IV?" asked Hotch. "What about her? She's a suspect in the poisoning at least."

"She's been suspended until the hospital concludes their investigation and will have no contact with patients for now."

"Prentiss, anything else to add?" asked Hotch as JJ added certain additional information on the board.

"Yeah," she said. "While I was waiting for Reid to return, Schiff told me he believes McCoy's shooting might be more personal then professional."

"What makes him think that?" asked Morgan.

Prentiss shrugged noncommittally. "Well, for starters, he wonders why somebody would shoot McCoy after he _successfully_ convicted a cop killer. I mean, other than Malcolm or Estelle Herlihy, a guilty verdict doesn't affect anybody else."

"Not unless you count Simon Heffner," Hotch interjected. He noticed his agents looking at him curiously.

"Who's Simon Heffner?" asked Rossi.

"Detective Briscoe told JJ and I that Simon and his older brother Douglas, are the sons of husband and wife serial killers, Ted and Jacqueline Heffner. Jack prosecuted the couple a year ago. They were sentenced to life. Their oldest son, Douglas, is serving twenty-five years for killing a police officer. But their youngest, Simon, served six months for driving with a suspended license. He disappeared after being released. Both sons threatened McCoy during their parents' trial."

"Did the cops talk with this Heffner character?" asked Morgan.

"The detectives can't find him," Hotch explained. "They went to the address the police had for Heffner, and found his mother-in-law living there instead; her name's Mildred Waller, and she hates her son-in-law, Ted Heffner. She accuses him of turning her daughter, Jacqueline Waller, into a serial killer. She also said when Simon was released from jail, he moved out leaving no forwarding address. He also quit his job two weeks before he moved out. She's had no contact with him whatsoever. No letters, no phone calls, no visits. I've got Garcia checking his whereabouts."

Rossi scanned the list of names. "What about Malcolm Herlihy and his mother?"

"Not much there either," JJ explained. "Detective Briscoe told us when they visited the Herlihy residence, Malcolm denied that neither he nor his mother shot McCoy. Claimed that if they had, he'd be in the morgue, and not the hospital. But Briscoe also told us Herlihy then said something strange."

"Strange?" asked Emily. "Like what?"

"He said that McCoy could still end up in the morgue."

There were several minutes of silence as the agents exchanged looks at each other.

"Sounds like either he or his mother plan to make another attempt on McCoy which is a strange thing to say if neither of them had anything to do with shooting him in the first place."

"True," Rossi interjected. "Buuuuuttttt…it could also be anger that led to his outburst. I mean, he had to know the moment McCoy was shot that he and his mother would become prime suspects. If I was in his place, I'd be ticked off too."

Reid exhaled deeply. "He could also be brazen enough to tell the police that he still intends to see McCoy dead and doesn't care if they know."

"There's several other things he told us as well," said Hotch.

Rossi smirked. "Please tell us he knows who the UnSub is so we can arrest him and then go home," he teased.

"Fat chance," the Unit Chief said. "No. He confirmed for us that once again we have two UnSubs involved."

"Again?"

"Yes," Hotch replied with a grim expression. "He told us that the police and the DA's office now believe that there were two people involved, because when the shooting took place, the video in the courthouse was not working at the time, just like with the other shootings. And also like before, we know our shooter couldn't be in both places at the same time, nor could he or she disrupt the video feed and then shoot Jack. So we have two people involved again."

Hotch scanned the room as he felt like this revelation had let all the air out of the room. Knowing they again had two UnSubs instead of one just made their case that much harder.

"We learned from Lieutenant Van Buren that both Briscoe and his partner went to McCoy's apartment once a mysterious call came in informing there had been a break-in at his apartment," said JJ. "Seems somebody broke in but didn't take anything, and nothing appeared to have been ransacked or searched. All they found was a phone message on the answering machine."

"Did they listen to it?" asked Morgan.

"They did. The message said, and I quote: '_You're a dead man, McCoy. You got lucky so far, but you'll be dead soon just like the others.'"_

"Sounds like our guy's getting bold. Then again, he coulda just left that message to throw us and the police off the track. Same with the break-in."

"That may be," Emily stated. "But he could also be telling law enforcement he intends to go after McCoy again and kill him. And how do we know that message isn't from Malcolm Herlihy or one of the other suspects?"

Hotch let out a deep breath. "We don't. Not yet anyway."

"Did Detective Briscoe or Lt. Van Buren tell you anything else?" asked Rossi looking at the Unit Chief.

"Same as with the others, the only fingerprints on the weapon were those of the police officer whose home the gun was stolen from. Also, the prints were so badly smudged they were useless. Our gun was researched through its serial number, and found to belong to an Officer Andrew Sampler, NYPD, and was reported by Sampler as stolen ten days before he was shot and killed."

"Let me guess," said Morgan. "The gun used to kill Sampler was then used to shoot McCoy which is what happened with the other shootings."

"Did they recover any spent cartridges?" asked Reid.

"Only one that I'm aware of. Van Buren told us the bullet that struck McCoy was damaged to the point that it couldn't be precisely matched to the weapon. Also, the gun and glove liners were tossed in a trash can outside the courtroom just like in the others."

"It's brilliant when you think about it," added Reid. "I mean, when the police recover the weapon after the shooting, the gun will be traced back to the officer who was killed with no other prints on it except the officer's."

"Let's not forget since the gun was a Glock 17, a member of the police department still could be involved," added Rossi. "And if not the shooter, he or she could have _supplied _the shooter with a law enforcement weapon."

"We know McCoy prosecuted about 200 cops," interjected Morgan glumly as he had once been a Chicago police officer before joining the FBI. "If one of them _did_ have a grudge against the counselor, instead of using a throw-away gun, the shooter stole Sampler's weapon and used it in both shootings."

"Regardless, it would certainly add to Schiff's concern about having uniforms standing watch outside McCoy's hospital room," Prentiss added. Her coworkers all nodded in agreement. She looked at her boss. "Hotch, the sooner we replace those uniforms guarding McCoy the better."

"That'll be resolved tomorrow morning," the Unit Chief promised. "That should put his mind at ease." He paused and checked his watch. It was going on eleven p.m.

"There is something that bothers me," Rossi began.

"What's that, Dave?"

"When Morgan and I spoke with McCoy's assistant, Abby Carmichael, she told us there were numerous officers from the 18th Precinct in the courtroom throughout the trial and the reading of the verdict. Yet there was no conclusive description of the shooter."

"That bothered me too," Morgan agreed. "Cops notice everything around them. And they certainly would have taken notice of a shooter in the courtroom shooting an attorney. So why such a vague description? Something's off with that, and we need to find out what and why."

"We also need to find out why McCoy was shot _after_ he convicted a cop killer," Prentiss said. "When a police officer is killed, they _want_ a guilty verdict. He got what they wanted so they would have been pleased. So that negates the possibility that a cop shot McCoy. I mean, it serves no purpose as he won the case against the killer of one of their own. They'd have no reason. But as it was a Glock 17 which was used, a member of law enforcement still has to be suspected."

"There's another possibility we need to consider as well," Reid interjected.

"What is it, kid?" asked Morgan.

"The possibility that the same UnSub is responsible for all five shootings," he pointed out.

Morgan stared at the younger man. "Kid, do you realize what you're saying?"

"I do," Reid reiterated. "I'm saying that we could have two UnSubs who traveled across the country, and are responsible for all five shootings and four deaths." There was now silence. Morgan let out a deep breath and turned his eyes toward his supervisor.

"Hotch, if the Kid's right, it means McCoy is in even more danger than we figured. He survived the shooting, and then was poisoned. Someone intends to see to see him dead like the others."

Hotch exhaled deeply. He knew Morgan was right. But there was more additional information they needed first. Then, he shifted his eyes to Rossi.

"Dave, you mentioned Abby Carmichael's name several times earlier. Did you and Morgan learn anything when you spoke with her?" asked Hotch.

Morgan chuckled. "Yeah. I learned that Rossi may have just selected Mrs. Rossi number four."

"I did not!" the older man responded indignantly.

"Yeah you did," Morgan chuckled. "Hotch, soon as this old man laid eyes on that woman, he was sizing her up for a trip to the closest wedding chapel he can find."

The team members all shared a laugh, including Hotch, and it felt good to do so. But just as quickly, he got them all back on track.

"Okay, we all had a good laugh at Dave's expense," he said. "Now, other than sizing up Abby Carmichael, what did she tell you and Morgan?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Rossi let out a deep breath and looked at his friend. "She's quite a woman, Aaron," he explained with a Cheshire cat grin telling the Unit Chief his best friend was quite impressed with the female ADA.

"That's understandable. She has second chair to Jack. The fact that she was standing right beside him when the shooting started, it's a miracle she wasn't hit as well. Then again, the second chair attorney wasn't a target in the other shootings either."

Morgan stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. "We were wondering the same thing so we asked her. She said when the shooting started, the shooter didn't seem to be aiming at her, but solely at McCoy."

"That tells us there's something about the lead prosecutor that makes him a target," Prentiss interrupted. "The UnSub has no interest in the second chair. We need to find out what that reason is."

"Agreed," Hotch concurred. "Did she say exactly _when_ the shooting began?"

"We conducted a cognitive interview with her," Rossi explained. "She recalled after the verdict was read, she and McCoy were packing up their briefcases when she dropped her ink pen on the floor. She started to bend down and pick it up, but McCoy bent down instead."

"She recalled it was when he started to stand up that the shooting began," Morgan added. "Rossi and I believe if he had still been kneeling down, he would've been hit squarely in the head and probably killed like the others. We know the others were all fatal head shots."

"And so could have been McCoy," said Rossi. "But when he moved at the last moment he was struck in the lower back instead. It was that act which kept this from becoming another murder."

"It could _still_ become a murder," Reid said softly looking at his supervisor. "I know you don't want to hear that, Hotch, but…"

"It's okay, Reid. I realize Jack's condition is extremely serious and it could go either way."

"Did she recall _exactly_ how many shots were fired overall?"

"Four, maybe five," replied Rossi. "She pointed out that the first shot which we believe was meant to hit McCoy in the head, struck the edge of the table between them instead. We're assuming he was struck in the lower back by the second shot. She added that while the shooting was taking place, she glanced upward from where she was crouched, and saw a look of pain etched on his face before he fell to the floor. We believe that was probably when he was struck in the back. She doesn't know where the other bullets struck. That means there are at least three, possibly four spent bullets still lodged in places inside that courtroom that we need to locate and recover, Aaron."

"And we will. In the morning, I want you and Prentiss to search that entire courtroom. Take detectives Briscoe and Curtis with you. See if you can recover any slugs that were missed previously." Hotch was mindful of the junior detective's attitude towards the feds. But he hoped involving him in the investigation would soften his stance somewhat.

Rossi nodded then he and Prentiss eyed each other.

"She say anything else?"

"Yeah," Morgan said. "Two things. We asked how McCoy got his head injury if she was so certain he didn't get shot in the head. She recalled when he got hit in the back, his legs gave out and his head struck the table before he fell to the floor. In the ensuing pandemonium, she thought he'd been hit in the head when she noticed blood running down his temple. When she noticed more blood pooling beneath him, she feared he'd been hit twice."

"You said two things. What else?"

"She told us two detectives from the 27th Precinct are going through McCoy's case files during his time in the DA's office, and believe us when we say there's a lot of 'em. So far, they found fifteen suspect cases. Of those fifteen, they have five that are still open."

"Still open?" asked JJ with arched eyebrows. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It's when a prosecutor has a case where the victim is still alive, but is slated to die at a future date because of an assault committed by a suspect. The suspect is not prosecuted right away because the charge of murder cannot be sustained. Instead, the case is kept open until such time as the victim succumbs, and then prosecutes the suspect. There's no statute-of-limitations on murder."

Rossi grinned at his friend. "Spoken like a true former attorney."

Hotch shrugged. "I had three or four cases I kept open for similar reasons during my tenure as a federal prosecutor."

"We told her we need to look at those open cases," Rossi added.

The Unit Chief pursed his lips and his expression indicated he was giving serious thought to what he was about to say.

"Dave, did Miss Carmichael say this Doctor Varick is one of McCoy's open cases?"

"She did."

"Of those fifteen cases, how old are they?"

Morgan shrugged. "At least ten years, could be older. They still have more to go through."

Hotch exhaled. "They don't need to waste time on cases older than ten years. The shooter couldn't be bothered. My guess is that our UnSub has to do with a case that is more recent. That's the kind of case that would matter to him. Something that would have a profound effect on his life. A current case would do that. There's no point in shooting an ADA for a conviction that's older than ten years."

Morgan pyramided his fingertips in front of him, elbows on the armrests. "So what do you want us to do?" he asked.

The Unit Chief checked his watch again. It was now just after midnight.

"Call Abby Carmichael later and give her a heads up. Tell her not to bother with any of McCoy's cases older than ten years, and to concentrate instead on current cases, cases that are still open, and those that Jack has retried and won, or is slated to retry."

"Got it," Morgan concurred.

"Then get in touch with Garcia and ask her to check on the whereabouts of Doctor Christian Varick. We need to find him as well as Simon Heffner."

"Anything else?" asked Rossi staring at the Unit Chief.

"It's late, and we've done all we can tonight," Hotch explained. "We need to get some rest and start fresh tomorrow. So I suggest we all go to the hotel and get some sleep. Garcia could only secure five rooms, so each of you will have your own room except for Dave and I. The two of us will share."

* * *

Not realizing he had dozed off, Adam Schiff jerked awake when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He shifted his eyes upward and spotted Anita Van Buren standing beside the chair he sat in, smiling down at him. A tired smile appeared on his face. He glanced back at his unconscious friend and massaging his own forehead with one hand.

"How is he, Mr. Schiff?" she asked as she slowly sat down on the edge of the bed next to McCoy's hand.

Adam let out a deep breath keeping his eyes on Jack. "Honestly, I have no idea at this point. A few hours ago I had high hopes he was starting to come out of his coma, but now, after being poisoned, I really can't say and neither can the doctor."

Van Buren stared at the ventilator breathing for McCoy, then let her eyes look at all the wires and machines before landing on his face. She chewed her lower lip.

"I don't know him as well or as long as you, but if there's one thing I _do_ know about him, is that Jack McCoy is a fighter. And he will fight to live and come back from this. He will _make it._ You just _have_ to believe."

Schiff chuckled. "Believe," he muttered. "Easier said than done. Before he was poisoned I did believe. I believed he was coming out of his coma. But now…"

The lieutenant spotted the moisture forming in his eyes and the quivering of his lower lip. She could only imagine how horrible this must be for the older man.

"But now what?" she asked calmly.

"I realize I need to prepare myself for the eventuality of it." He massaged his jaw.

The lieutenant had an idea what was running through the older man's mind, and she hoped she could change his thinking. "Prepare yourself for what?" she asked already knowing the answer.

"Prepare myself for the eventuality that he is going to die and there's nothing I or anybody else can do to change it. Bottom line lieutenant, is that I'm going to lose him. And when that happens, I have no idea how I, much less my office, will carry on."

Van Buren took in and let out a deep breath. "Mr. Schiff, I need you to look at me for a moment. Please." She waited until she had his complete attention. "First, it is too soon for you to think you are going to lose the counselor. I realize it might not look like it right now, but he will survive despite this setback. I know it, and deep down, I know you believe it too. And second, should he not, both you and your office will carry on and keep his memory alive by prosecuting cases the way he would. And that's with the same fire and passion that Jack McCoy would."

Schiff diverted his eyes and looked at his friend.

"This would all be so much easier if he would just open his eyes and say something."

"True. But some things are out of our hands and into those of a higher authority," she said.

Schiff ran a hand over his eyes. "You're right of course. It's just that waiting has never been one of my strong suits."

Van Buren smirked. "Not one of mine either. But when it comes to the Man upstairs, I learned through experience I have to let him handle things in his own way in his own time. And I believe with all my heart, that he will bring McCoy back to us when the time's right."

Schiff again diverted his eyes and focused them on the police lieutenant and allowed a weak smile to appear.

"Thank you, lieutenant," he said. "I think I needed someone to point out exactly what I needed to hear, and that is that I can't control everything."

"You're welcome," she said with a smile. "I'm glad I could help."

He looked at her. "Now, can you tell me how the investigation is going?" he asked. "Any new leads?"

She exhaled. "It's slow going. But now that the BAU has arrived, we're hoping that'll change."

Schiff nodded slowly and massaged his chin. "I know Agent Hotchner to a degree. Jack introduced him to me." He hesitated before he continued because he wasn't sure how what he was going to say next would be taken. "Lieutenant, and I mean no offense to the police, but I made a request that Agent Hotchner replace your uniformed officers standing guard outside Jack's room with his own agents. At least until the shooter has been apprehended." He stared at the woman waiting for her reaction.

Van Buren ground her lower jaw. To say she felt hurt and betrayed was an understatement. She trusted her men explicitly, and to _suspect, _much less _think,_ that one of them might have shot McCoy was inconceivable. She moistened her lips.

"Considering the evidence, I understand _why_ you feel the need to replace my men, Mr. Schiff," she began. "And I won't hold your reasons against you. Do you know when the change will take place?"

"I made the request when two of his agents questioned me earlier, so I suspect it might take place in a few hours."

She checked her watch. "I need to get home and kiss my kids who should already be in bed asleep. On my way out, I'll tell the men guarding the door to…"

"Don't do that, lieutenant," Schiff interrupted. "When they find out they're probably going to be upset, and there's no need for them to be upset with you as you're in charge of the department."

Van Buren arched both eyebrows. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. All I'm saying is that you not tell your men outside the door they're being replaced by FBI. You still need to work with these men and women, and if you tell them they're being replaced, they could misconstrue it as you having no faith in them, and that would not do right now."

She mulled over his words and understood he was concerned with her men's reaction to her if she told them, and realized he was right. And even though she disagreed with the FBI being the ones to explain to the men standing guard they were being replaced, she agreed to let them do it.

* * *

Aaron Hotchner, his tie removed and shirt collar open, was stretched out on the bed in a seated position, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. There were two pillows propped behind his head for support against the headstand, an open folder in his hands. He was reviewing the contents pertaining to the shooting of Jack McCoy. Scattered around him on the mattress were similar folders, all open, pertaining to the four murdered attorneys. But as tired as he was, Hotch couldn't seem to turn off his mind, so he hoped reviewing the folders might help him fall asleep.

Needing a break, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced sideways at Rossi who was in the same seated position as he but on a separate bed. But instead of files, he had a laptop on his lap and was typing furiously. Hotch knew his friend was working on a new book and used his spare time to write. Sighing, Hotch lay the folder he held in his lap, and grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand beside the bed. He scrolled down the list until he came to the name he was looking for.

Rossi stopped typing to glance at his friend. "Aaron, what's going on?" He watched the man press a button on his cell and put the phone to his ear. "Who are you calling at this hour?"

Hotch held up an index finger asking for quiet as he heard a click on the opposite end. "Ron, its Hotch."

"Hotch, what's happening for you to call me at home and at this hour?"

"I'm in New York with the team on a case. I know it's late, and I hate to call you at home, but I need a huge favor."

"It's okay. What do you need? Name it and you got it."

"I need four of your best men to replace four uniformed officers who are standing guard outside an ADA's room at the hospital. His name is Jack McCoy, and somebody's tried twice to kill him. Once while in the hospital."

"Hotch, what aren't you telling me?"

"A uniform may be involved."

There was a pause on the other end. "How soon do you need my men?"

"Within the hour. The sooner the uniformed guards are replaced, the sooner we can alleviate at least one problem."

"You got 'em. What do you want me to say when the uniforms ask why?"

"Tell 'em the FBI is replacing 'em to allow them to help with the investigation. They might not buy it but it'll make things easier for their lieutenant."

"Understood. Anything else?"

"Yes. His doctor's name is Horace Smythe. I need you to speak with him about limiting those with access to McCoy's hospital room."

"Will do. Anything else I need to do?"

"That's it. Thanks Ron. I owe you."

"Consider us even, and you're welcome. Don't be a stranger. Goodbye."

"Goodbye. And thanks again." Hotch disconnected the call and returned the phone back to the nightstand. He looked at Rossi.

"Was that Ron Briggs, head of security in the New York office?" the older man asked.

"It was," Hotch replied. "He owed me a favor. I didn't like calling him at home at this late hour, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought it beneficial not to wait to replace the uniforms. Anyway, within the hour there will be FBI guarding McCoy and not regular officers. Therefore, that will hopefully eliminate any possibility of a uniform gaining access to Jack."

"And make Adam Schiff extremely happy and very relieved," Rossi commented with a smile as he shut off his laptop. "Now that one concern's been remedied, how about we get a few hours sleep while we still can."

Hotch closed the folders and shoved them aside before sliding down on his bed and lay flat on his back. "Sounds good to me," he said as Rossi reached over and switched off the lamp on the nightstand plunging the room into darkness, allowing both men to close their eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Shortly after nine the following morning, Aaron Hotchner stepped out of the elevator and into the ICU when the doors hissed open. Despite only getting four hours sleep the night before, he was still alert and smartly dressed. He approached the nurses' station while reaching inside his jacket for his badge, producing his credentials for the nurse to see. Satisfied, she pointed him in the direction of the ADA's room.

"Thank you," he said putting away his credentials before he walked toward the assigned room. It was easy to spot which one it was as there were four plainclothes agents outside the door, two on each side. They nodded to Hotch who again produced his credentials for them to see before they allowed him to enter the room. Putting away his badge, he opened the door. Standing in the doorway, he noticed an older man slouched in an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair staring at an unconscious dark-haired man connected to a ventilator with numerous wires and machines everywhere. The older man didn't seem to acknowledge his presence.

"Mr. Schiff?" Hotch announced stepping further into the room. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Aaron Hotchner of the FBI." He admitted to himself that Prentiss had been right in her assessment. Adam Schiff looked totally exhausted.

Now aware of the man's presence, Schiff stood up and gripped the outstretched hand firmly in his. "Adam Schiff, District Attorney. Pleased to finally meet you face-to-face, Agent Hotchner. Jack's told me a great many things about you."

"All good, I hope," Hotch said with a grin.

Schiff smiled. "If they weren't, I wouldn't have asked for you and your team to come to New York and help solve this."

"That's why we're here, Mr. Schiff. And just so you're aware, I made a phone call earlier and there are now four agents guarding Jack instead of uniforms. I also had the head of security from the New York office speak with Doctor Smythe about limiting access to Jack's room. He assured me after speaking with the doctor, that the only ones to have access have all been introduced to the agents guarding the room so they'll recognize them by sight. I hope this brings you some relief."

"It does. Thank you."

"I also plan on speaking with Doctor Smythe myself before I return to work. But I first wanted to touch base with you. Agent Prentiss relayed your message to me and I wanted to also see how Jack was doing." Hotch's dark eyes studied McCoy's face and a wave of compassion came over him. He crossed his arms across his chest.

Schiff glanced back at the unconscious man before turning back to the agent. He stuffed both hands in his pants pockets. "I need to get a cup of coffee. Do you want to visit with Jack for a spell, Agent Hotchner?"

Hotch swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "I'd like that, Mr. Schiff."

"Please call me Adam."

"I'd like that, Adam. And please call me Hotch."

"Fine…Hotch. I won't take long, I promise. Can I bring you a cup of coffee?"

"No thank you. And take your time. I'll stay with Jack until you get back."

"Thank you."

Hotch nodded then watched the older man leave the room. Now alone, Hotch sat down in the hard plastic chair beside the bed. He stared at the man's face and at all the machines and wires. He felt somewhat relieved hearing the continuous beeping of the heart monitor. It meant the patient was still alive. Reaching out, he gripped the unconscious man's hand and squeezed it. As he did, he recalled their first and only meeting eight months ago.

_**(Flashback):**_

_The case was exasperating. There were no leads but plenty of suspects. He was exhausted. So exhausted he had sent the rest of his team back to their hotel ahead of him. For himself, he needed to unwind before he returned to the hotel and decided a walk might do him some good and perhaps help him to unwind thus allowing him to get some sleep._

_With hands stuffed in his pants pockets, he walked along a street when he noticed a bar/restaurant called 'Dorado's.' Hotch found himself stopping and peering through the front window. He noticed it didn't seem too crowded, so he pushed open the door and entered the establishment. Once his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he looked around, spotting an empty bar stool beside a tall and lean man with unruly black hair wearing a worn green outer jacket. He was staring into the Tumbler in front of him which he spun slowly around and around with two fingers. There was something about this man that read 'unapproachable,' which didn't bother Hotch as he wasn't really in a talkative __mood himself, so he slid onto the empty bar stool. The bartender approached him._

"_What can I get you, pal?" he asked only mildly interested._

_Hotch sighed resting his arms on the bar top. "Scotch on the rocks," he ordered._

_Though he couldn't swear to it, Hotch thought he noticed the lean man beside him perk up at hearing his drink of choice. The bartender returned and placed a Tumbler in front of Hotch then walked away. Picking up his glass, Aaron took a sip allowing the amber liquid to burn its way down his throat._

"_Hard day?" a voice asked. Looking around, Hotch sensed it was the lean man who had spoken despite not looking at him._

"_Very," he answered. He held out a hand. "Aaron Hotchner, but you can call me Hotch."_

_The lean man gripped Hotch's hand in his and shook it. "Jack McCoy."_

"_Pleased to meet you."_

"_Same here," McCoy replied._

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch let out a deep breath as he stared at the unconscious man. "Jack, its Aaron. I know you can hear me so I want you to listen and listen closely. My team and I are here in New York, and I _promise_ you we will find who shot you. So you need not worry about that. All you have to worry about is getting well." He paused and swallowed hard. "I told my son about you. Jack asks when he can meet you. I keep telling him you're extremely busy, but that's not going to work forever. He'd like to meet you."

_**(Continuation**_** of Flashback):**

_The two men had moved from the bar to a nearby empty table with their drinks and each eating a chicken salad sandwich and fries._

"_So you're a profiler?" asked Jack as he stuck a French fry in his mouth. He had never met a profiler despite having dealt with FBI agents in the course of prosecuting cases. And his opinion of FBI agents was not favorable._

"_With the BAU also known as the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. And you?" Hotch sensed Jack's opinion of the FBI was not pleasant. Probably from personal experience._

"_Executive Assistant District Attorney."_

_Hotch grinned. Jack was puzzled by the man's reaction._

"_What's so funny?" _

"_I used to be a federal prosecutor before joining the FBI."_

_McCoy found himself intrigued by this man sitting across from him. "Why'd you quit if I may ask?"_

"_You can ask. I couldn't accept prosecuting a case where the suspect had already harmed his victim. I wanted to stop him __**before**__ that happened. I couldn't do that as a prosecutor so I left and joined the Bureau. Then the BAU was created, and it turned out to be exactly what I was looking for. A chance to stop the bad guys before they commit their crimes against the innocent."_

_McCoy nodded his understanding. "I've never heard of your unit. What does a profiler do exactly?"_

_Hotch sighed. "We work with the local police when they are unable to solve a case. We review evidence at crime scenes to figure out how a crime is committed. Then we build a profile, identify suspects in an investigation, list the most probable characteristics of a suspect, and then use that suspect's past behavior to predict future actions as to how the perpetrator is evading capture."_

_McCoy took a drink from his Tumbler. _

"_Ever step on other people's toes?" There was a touch of anger in his voice._

"_We don't hijack a case, Jack," Aaron explained. "Now I don't know what kind of interaction you may have had in the past with the FBI, but I assure you the BAU only take control of a case when a serial killer is involved. Also, we have to be invited in by the locals. And once a case is solved, we let the locals take credit for the arrest. It's how we do things."_

_The two men continued to talk and realized they had much in common and were very much alike. Hotch had a seven-year-old son named Jack; McCoy's grown daughter was named Rebecca. Difference was McCoy was estranged from his daughter while Hotch and his son were extremely close._

"_I'm sorry," Hotch said. "I don't know how I would survive if Jack and I were estranged. It was bad enough being estranged from his mother."_

"_What happened?"_

_Hotch sighed and took a sip of Scotch. "Haley couldn't take the long hours. My job also requires I travel a lot, so I was away from home most of the time leaving her to raise Jack, and I often forget dates and appointments. One day I was out-of-town on a case, and when I came home, she had packed her things and Jack's, and had left to stay with __her sister. She eventually filed for divorce. But we're still friends."_

_Jack chuckled. "I can relate to the long hours. Ellen and I married because she was pregnant. And my long hours didn't sit well with her either." He sighed wearily. "My daughter, when she was growing up, had problems with my long hours as well. I hardly saw her and I was never home until late. Now she's a grown woman, and I met her once. I understand she's married and a mother, and I've never met her husband or my grandchild. (1) My second wife couldn't handle the long hours either. But I can't blame either of them or the long hours for the problems."_

"_What do you mean?"_

_For some unknown reason, McCoy felt comfortable talking with Hotch about his personal life which he had, until now, only shared with one other person. "I had a wandering eye. I wasn't what you call a faithful husband." He took a drink. "In fact, I sucked at it. How about you? You think Haley will forgive you and take you back?" (2)_

_Hotch sighed sadly, and for a moment McCoy thought he might have said something wrong or brought up something the man did not want to discuss. He soon found out neither was the case._

"_I'm afraid not. She was murdered by a serial killer who was after me because I refused to make a deal with him. He killed her before I could reach her, but I was in time to save my son from sharing her fate."_

_McCoy's eyebrows arched upward. "Your son was with her when she was killed?"_

_"He was. He was five at the time. Fortunately, he's okay physically. But being a single father now with a seven-year-old isn't easy, and especially with my job. But my sister-in-law, Jessica, is a tremendous help. She offers to care for Jack when I need to travel."_

_McCoy finished his drink and gestured to the bartender for another. He waited until he got the fresh drink before continuing their conversation. "It sounds like you and I are two of a kind, Hotch." He found himself liking this man despite him being an FBI agent._

"_We both have three failed marriages between us, work long hours, and are single parents. But at least you have a good and loving relationship with your child. I can only hope Rebecca will one day forgive me." There was a sadness Hotch noticed in the man's dark eyes. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if he had been in his place with Jack. He considered himself fortunate that he and his son had such a close and loving relationship despite his situation with Haley and that his ex-wife encouraged their __relationship._

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch exhaled deeply and continued staring at the man's face. "Jack, despite the strained relationship you have with Rebecca, you are still her father. And despite the way things are between you, a daughter still needs her father. Truth is even a strained relationship can be repaired with time. But you need to come back to us or there will be no relationship at all or even a chance of one."

_**(Continue Flashback):**_

_Hotch and McCoy continued their talk when Jack looked at his watch. "Somewhere you have to be, Jack?" Hotch asked._

"_I have a closing argument to prepare for court tomorrow morning."_

"_How's the case going?"_

_Jack let out a deep breath. "I don't like to discuss a case I'm prosecuting. Don't want to jinx it." He chuckled. "As a former prosecutor, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that." He took another swallow of the amber liquid._

_Hotch chuckled. "I may no longer be a prosecutor, but I do remember all the closing arguments I had to give."_

_Jack smirked. "So you're with the New York FBI office?"_

"_No. We're located in Quantico, Virginia. My team and I are currently in New York on a case. It's not going well at the moment I'm sorry to say. Plenty of leads but no suspects. At least not yet."_

"_So why are you here in a bar drinking Scotch with me instead of working on finding the guilty party?"_

"_We've decided to call it a day right now, get some rest, and start again fresh tomorrow. But I couldn't turn off my mind, so I decided to take a walk to clear it. After a few minutes I found myself outside this bar and decided to come inside and get a drink hoping to relax enough so I can get some sleep."_

_McCoy grinned before he checked his watch again. He really needed to get home and work on his closing argument for court. He quickly downed the remainder of his Scotch and started to get to his feet. "I need to go." He held out a hand again. "Good meeting you. And good luck with your case."_

_Hotch shook the man's hand again. "Thanks. Same here." _

_When he noticed Hotch reaching for his wallet, McCoy held up his hand, stopping him. "It's on me. Stay and finish your sandwich and drink." Reaching into his own pocket, McCoy took out a small handful of bills and tossed them on the table. _

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch let go of McCoy's hand and fell with his back against that of the chair. He let out a deep breath. "Jack, I don't know what else to tell you. There are a lot of people pulling for you. Too many to mention."

Just then Hotch thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He noticed the forefinger of McCoy's outstretched hand twitch. He leaned closer and placed the man's hand into his open palm. "C'mon Jack, I know you can do it." The forefinger twitched again then stopped.

* * *

_Someone was calling his name again. Asking him to do something. To do what? It was a voice he had heard before but not the same one from before._

_Was it Adam? No. It was somebody else's. But who?_

_Again he tried opening his eyes but they refused to obey his brain. Again he tried moving his legs which refused to move. There was also the pain in his head which still throbbed. _

_But it was that familiar voice he couldn't identify._

_A faint groan of pain was all that he could muster as he tried to convince his body to respond in some way; to obey him. But it wouldn't move an inch. So he tried one last thing to alert whoever was talking to him._

"_Ad…dum," was all he managed to whisper before his strength gave out completely._

If Hotch hadn't been leaning over him, he wouldn't have heard McCoy whisper Schiff's name. A small smile appeared on his face. He reached for the patient buzzer and pressed it. A short time later, a doctor and two nurses hurried into the room.

* * *

(1) According to the series, the last name of Ellen was never given. But per research, she was McCoy's first female ADA with whom he had an affair, and is the only one he married, and had a child: a daughter, Rebecca. Whether or not they married because she was pregnant is not known, but knowing the character as I do, I feel he would have done the right thing and married Ellen. He is estranged from Rebecca and remained so throughout the series, despite meeting only once for dinner. As per the series, McCoy never remarried after his second divorce which was mentioned in Season 17, E3 called 'HOME SWEET.'

(2) It was also known that he fooled around with his other three female ADAs during both marriages: Diana Hawthorne, Sally Bell and Claire Kincaid, which combined with the long hours, led to both divorces and the estrangement from his daughter although it is never confirmed but hinted at by McCoy.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

An hour after leaving Jack's room, Schiff returned holding a Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand. The minute McCoy's room came into view, he stopped short at the sight which met his eyes. The door to his ADA's room was wide open, and Doctor Smythe was standing outside the room speaking with Agent Hotchner. Unable to read either man's expression, fear began to permeate his entire body. Could McCoy have died while he was gone? Is that what happened? Fearing the worst, he slowly walked toward the two men. Hotch noticed him approaching, and after excusing himself, met him halfway while Smythe walked back inside the room.

"What's happened?" Schiff asked shakily. "Is he dead?"

"Far from it, Adam," Hotch explained. "I was talking to Jack when he began showing signs of awakening."

A weak smile appeared on the older man's face. Dare he hope? "Are you sure?"

"Positive. His forefinger twitched twice while I spoke to him. I then leaned over him and asked he come back to us. He whispered your first name before he passed out again. I pressed the patient buzzer immediately sending for the doctor."

Adam's lower lip quivered and the corners of his mouth turned upward.

"He's coming back to us," he muttered in a thick voice. "He's really coming back." He stared at the profiler. "Thank you."

"For what? I didn't do anything."

"Yes you did. You reached him in a way the rest of us couldn't. And for that I am grateful."

It was then Smythe stepped back out into the hallway. There was a smile on his face.

"How is he, doctor?" asked Hotch.

Smythe crossed his arms across his chest. "Mr. McCoy is still unconscious, but there are signs he may be trying to wake up."

"Like what?" asked Schiff.

"Just so you know, Mr. Schiff, I couldn't base my results solely on Agent Hotchner's observations alone, so I examined Mr. McCoy to see where he fit on the GCS. At the time he was admitted, Mr. McCoy was completely unresponsive." (1)

"Level one," said the DA. As Hotch listened, he knew Reid would be able to describe the GCS and the levels it entails with accurate and complete precision. But as his youngest wasn't here right now, all he could do is listen as he was not a doctor. But even as a layman, he knew level one was the worst score one could get.

"Adam…" Hotch started when he was stopped.

"I know level one is the worst score possible," Schiff interjected. He glanced at Hotch sadly. "After her stroke, my wife was at level one and remained there until she died."

Hotch pursed his lips. "I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't know," he said with compassion. He could relate with having lost a wife.

Schiff sighed then looked again at the doctor. "You were saying?"

"As I was saying, after Agent Hotchner's observations, I conducted a motor response test along with eye and verbal tests. Concerning the motor and eye tests, Mr. McCoy responded to pain stimuli. I squeezed the lunula area of his right fingernail and he responded by opening his eyes then closing them again (2). And as far as the verbal response is concerned, I'm aware he muttered your first name, but other than that, all he does is moan. Of course that can be because he's still in a lot of pain despite the medication. He won't be able to form actual words for a while yet."

"But he said my name," said the older man. "If he can't form words, how could he say my name?"

"I believe it took all his energy to say just your first name. After that, he had no strength left and passed out."

"What does all this mean, doctor?"

"Right now, he's moved up on the GCS from a level one to a level two. Now level two is not great by any means, but considering he was at level one in the beginning, I'd say it's an improvement."

"Based on your examination, doctor," said Hotch crossing his arms across his chest. "What would you say is Jack's current condition?"

Smythe let out a deep breath. "Right now, I'd have to say his condition is still extremely serious, and could go either way." He faced the older man. "You can go back inside and sit with him again, Mr. Schiff. I assure you it's all right."

"Thank you," Schiff replied. He then patted Hotch on the back before he started inside McCoy's hospital room.

"Adam…" Hotch called out causing the older man to pause in the doorway and turn around. "Before I leave and return to work, I'll need to speak with you. So please try and stay available."

"I'll be here when you're ready for me." Without another word, Schiff turned away and reentered the room.

Now alone, Hotch stared at the doctor.

"Doctor, is there somewhere you and I can talk privately right now?"

"Is it really necessary right now, Agent?" asked Smythe, annoyed. "I have patients to see."

Hotch turned on the patented 'Hotchner glare' that he was known for. "I suggest you get another doctor to cover your rounds for you." He noticed Smythe open his mouth as if to argue, but the agent beat him to it. "I'm afraid I must insist."

"I've already spoken with the police," the doctor replied sarcastically. "Why can't you just ask them to repeat what I told them?"

Hotch sighed as he was used to this type of reaction. But he refused to be derailed by anybody. His glare intensified. "The FBI has jurisdiction in this case, doctor, so let me assure you that you don't want to cross me in this."

Smythe swallowed seeing Hotch's intense glare directed at him. "Fine. Let me contact Doctor Asperger, and then we can talk in my office."

* * *

"Why are we wasting time here," Rey Curtis remarked as he and Lennie Briscoe were searching near the judge's bench in the front of the courtroom while agents Rossi and Emily Prentiss were searching around the lawyers' tables towards the back. So far, the only cartridge recovered was the slug buried deep in the front edge of the prosecutor's table as Carmichael recalled. Unable to dig out the bullet and possibly causing more damage to it, a small portion of the wood in which the bullet was embedded was cut out instead. It was then put inside a see-thru evidence bag.

Briscoe sighed wearily. "Let it go, Rey," he replied. "They're not such bad guys once you get to know 'em." He was searching along the top of the judge's bench with Curtis the bottom.

Curtis stopped what he was doing and glared up at his partner. "You gonna tell me you're okay with the feds waltzing in here and taking over our case? Is that what you're telling me, Lennie? Cause if you are…"

"Don't go putting words in my mouth, okay? If you had hung around long enough instead of losing your cool yesterday like you did, you would've learned that they don't just 'take over' a case from the locals except in cases where there's a serial killer which this turns out to be. McCoy is the fifth attorney to be shot in court in the past three years, but the only one to survive."

"So, that still doesn't…"

"They also told us once the arrest is made that they intend to let us take the credit for it if that makes you feel better. Now why would they do that if they were just gonna 'take over' like you said? Also, they know what they're doin'. They convinced me there's something to this profiling business."

"Yeah? Well I'm not convinced it's not a scam of some kind. They probably researched all of us before they got here."

Briscoe shook his head. "That could be. But the agent I met yesterday knew things about me that weren't in any file. I'm tellin' you, Rey, just talk with them and give them half a chance. You might find them helpful." Suddenly, Briscoe felt something along the underside of the top of the judge's bench. _"Got something!"_ he called out. A small portion of wood was cut out again and placed in an evidence bag.

After another hour had passed, two other bullets were found; one in the back of the chair used by the second chair attorney, and one on the floor below the railing behind the prosecution table. A nick had been found on the back of the top of the railing. These four bullets accounted for the four shots Abby Carmichael had recalled hearing in addition to the fifth shot striking McCoy.

Rossi collected all four evidence bags and looked at the brunette. "I'll get these to the lab." He spotted Briscoe and Curtis approaching, then looked again at his partner. "Emily, can you catch a ride back to the station with the detectives?" He looked at the senior detective.

Briscoe grinned while looking at Prentiss. "Sure she can, agent," he replied. "Always have room in the car for a pretty girl." He noticed Curtis rolling his eyes out of the corner of his eyes and ignored him, then smiled at Emily who averted her eyes shyly.

Rossi grinned as he eyed both his partner and the older detective before exiting the courtroom. Now alone with the detectives, Prentiss crossed her arms across her chest and looked back and forth between them.

"You don't like me very much, do you detective?" she asked staring at Curtis.

"No, I don't," Curtis replied staring harshly at her. "In fact, I don't like you or your entire team. And I really don't like all this profiling mumbo-jumbo you've been laying on my partner. So why don't you…"

"You're married with three children, probably daughters," began Emily staring at Curtis. "You're a devout Catholic who does his job by-the-book and views things only in black-and-white. You're a supporter of the death penalty and believe if someone breaks the law, they should go to jail regardless of the circumstances." She felt she had the younger detective's attention now and continued. "You didn't start with the 27th Precinct, but transferred here from your former job because your former supervisor, I suspect a woman, made unwelcome advances toward you. How am I doing so far, detective?"

Briscoe, watching from the sidelines, could tell his colleague was intrigued so far, and continued to observe hoping this agent could change Rey's stubborn mind.

Curtis looked at Briscoe who held up his hands, palms forward, in defense.

"Hey, don't look at me. I didn't squeal."

Rey then faced Emily.

"I…how do you know about that?" he stammered. "Nobody knew about that."

Prentiss smiled and glanced at Lennie. "I suspect your partner knows. I've observed the closeness between you. A closeness that would allow you to confide in him, especially with something of this magnitude. I also suspect your lieutenant knows as well as she is the person in charge and would insist on knowing the truth." She paused. "You and your partner took part in an arrest a while back. An arrest which led to an execution that both of you and both McCoy and his assistant observed. Witnessing this execution and your part in it, caused you much distress. So much distress it led you to cheat on your wife whom you love dearly. But you were able to repair the damage done to your marriage, and now it's stronger than ever although you still feel guilty and will spend the rest of your life trying to make it up to her."

Curtis swallowed the lump in his throat. Of everything that the female agent had said, the reasons he had transferred from Organized Crime Control to the 27th Precinct was known only to Van Buren and Lennie Briscoe, and he trusted both to keep that knowledge to themselves. And cheating on his wife, Debra, was known only to Briscoe. So how had this agent found out?

Rey took a deep breath in then let it out. "How did you know about Debra?" he asked, his tone calm but his voice shaky.

"You have a sadness in your eyes that tells me you're full of guilt. And what could you have guilt over? Only thing that comes to mind is the vow which says you promise to be forever faithful to your wife." (3)

Curtis ran a hand over his dark hair. "Is this profiling some kind of magic or done with mirrors?"

Emily chuckled. She now believed she had convinced the junior detective of her team's skills. "No mirrors, detective, and no magic. We simply observe human behavior and use it to help catch predators."

Curtis looked at his partner as if looking for help. But Briscoe chuckled and grinned. "Hey, they convinced me. Did they convince you?"

Rey studied Prentiss. Even he acknowledged she was a strikingly beautiful woman, and if he hadn't been married, he would at least ask her on a date. But he loved his wife very, very much, and after the last time, promised himself he would never, ever, do what he had done again."

"I…I'm still not totally convinced. But I'm willing to work with you and try to find out who shot McCoy."

"That's all we ask, detective," said Prentiss sticking out her hand which Curtis took in his larger one and shook. A small smile crossed his face as he did so.

* * *

Morgan and Reid made their way up the steps of the Herlihy house until they reached the top step. Reid pressed the doorbell and the duo waited. "Here's hoping we can knock somebody off this suspect list before long," Morgan complained.

"Too many UnSubs for you?" Reid joked with a smirk as he pressed the doorbell again.

"No. I just would like to see the list narrowed down. Five UnSubs is just too damn many for my liking."

Before either man spoke again, the door opened and the agents were confronted by a tall and lanky man with blue-grey eyes and dirty blonde hair who, based on their information, they assumed was Malcolm Herlihy.

"Mr. Herlihy?" asked Morgan.

Herlihy stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance. "Who wants to know?" he snarled with a look of disdain. The agents produced their credentials.

"FBI," said Morgan.

"Malcolm, who's at the door?" asked a female voice from somewhere inside.

"It's the feds, mom," Malcolm replied not moving from his spot. He glared at both agents. "If you're here about that McCoy bastard just turn around and leave. We got nothing to say." He started to slam the door, but he wasn't quick enough, as Morgan's foot shot out and blocked the door to keep it from closing. That forced Malcolm to open it again.

"This isn't up for discussion, man," said Morgan, businesslike. "Now you and your mother can either let us in so the four of us can talk, or we can take both of you to police headquarters. But either way, you and your mother are gonna talk to us about the shooting of Jack McCoy. So what's it gonna be?"

Ignoring Reid because of his youthful appearance, Herlihy looked at the bald agent instead. He saw the intense glare and with a groan, left the door open without saying anything and turned away.

The agents walked inside with Reid closing the door behind them.

* * *

(1) GCS stands for Glascow Coma Scale. It was developed by Jennett and Teasdale in 1974. It takes into account eye opening movement, and verbal responses to vocal or painful stimuli. Level one is the lowest and six is the highest.

(2) The lunula area of the fingernail is the crescent shaped whitish area of the bed of the fingernail.

(3) The episode in which Curtis broke his wedding vows is AFTERSHOCK, Season 6, Episode 23.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Herlihy stormed away from the agents and parked his body beside his mother on the sofa. Reid sat down in the overstuffed chair near the sofa, while Morgan sat on the arm of the chair and faced the Herlihys, arms crossed.

"Say what you need to say then get the hell out of our home," Malcolm sneered as he rested one arm across the back of the sofa behind his mother and crossed his legs. He continued glaring at both agents while his mother, Estelle, maintained her stony silence. Both agents pictured her somewhere between sixty-and-seventy years of age with blue-grey eyes and silver hair. Her hair was highlighted by her black turtleneck sweater and she wore light grey slacks.

"We have just a few questions," began Morgan in a business-like tone, "First, you can begin by telling us where both of you were when Jack McCoy was shot?"

Estelle exhaled deeply. "We were both in court during the trial. But I couldn't stay and hear the verdict because I feared the worst. So I went home after asking Malcolm to wait for the verdict and then call me which he did."

"So you didn't wait outside the courtroom?" asked Reid, studying Estelle.

"No. I left _before_ the verdict was read and came home. And before you ask, there was nobody here who can vouch for me," Estelle explained.

Reid glanced at Malcolm. "And you stayed in the courtroom?"

"I had to. I needed to see the outcome of the case. After the verdict, I stepped outside the courtroom and called mom at home with the bad news that dad had been found guilty when all the time we both knew he was innocent."

Reid and Morgan exchanged looks. "Forgive me for asking, Mrs. Herlihy," Morgan interjected. "But if your husband was innocent, why didn't you or your son produce evidence of this before the trial?"

"We didn't have any physical evidence. But given time, I'm sure we could have found something."

"And what evidence of his innocence were you hoping to find if given the time?"

Estelle pursed her ruby-red lips. "Proof that Jacob didn't kill that officer. I know my husband. He wouldn't do that."

"So you're saying neither you nor your son own or had access to the gun used to shoot Jack McCoy?"

"That's right."

"That's strange because Malcolm's fingerprints were found on the gun used to shoot him," Reid lied knowing the only prints found on the gun were useless, and the only people who knew that were the police and the BAU. It was also something not reported in the news.

"_That's a lie!" _bellowed Herlihy. "I sure as hell wouldn't leave my prints on a gun I just used. I'd have wiped it clean."

Morgan looked down at Reid before again facing Estelle. "Mrs. Herlihy, the bullet they dug out of the murdered officer matches the bullet dug out of McCoy. And both slugs were a match with the gun the police found outside the courtroom where your son was when he called you."

Malcolm smirked. "I'd have to be pretty stupid to leave a gun where it would be so easily found especially if my prints were on it. And since I ain't stupid, it ain't my gun and they ain't my prints on it."

Estelle's body stiffened as she glared at Morgan. She wanted to change the subject. "McCoy _hid_ evidence that would've cleared my husband. My son and I _know _he did! So instead of worrying about who shot_ him_, you should be investigating _him_ for concealing evidence and suborning perjury."

"What evidence is it you think he concealed?" asked Reid leaning forward, forearms on his thighs, and hands clasped between his knees.

"Why don't you ask those two cops who testified at the trial. I'm _sure_ they know," Malcolm stated. "They probably planted it."

"Detectives Briscoe and Curtis?" asked Morgan shifting his weight.

"Yeah. Them."

"Besides, McCoy is a bastard who _deserves_ to die for what he did!" hissed Estelle.

"Then you're admitting one of you shot him?" asked Reid.

Malcolm smirked. "We're not admitting to anything. You asked why someone attempted to murder the bastard."

"Is that how you planned to murder him?" asked Morgan. "One of you figure you could shoot him and make it appear the same man who killed four other attorneys was responsible?"

Herlihy ground his lower jaw so hard the agents feared they would hear it crack.

"How exactly did you get the gun into the courtroom?" asked Reid. "People entering the courthouse are scanned for weapons before entering the courtroom."

Estelle jumped to her feet angrily. _"We didn't shoot him! Can't you morons get that through your thick skulls!?" _

"Besides…" Malcolm added just as angrily. "If one of us had shot 'im I guarantee you he'd be dead, not lying in some hospital bed paralyzed. Besides, we wouldn't even try to hide it. We would have been _proud_ to have done it and tell the entire world."

"How do you know he's paralyzed?"

"Those two cops came to question us after he was shot. They said something about him being alive. And as far as the paralysis, we heard about it on the news." He smirked. "I guess _some_ bastards are just lucky. Now, is there anything else you wanna know?"

"Just one more thing," Morgan said getting to his feet. "You told the detectives when they questioned you about the shooting that McCoy might still end up in the morgue. If you didn't have anything to do with this, why would you say something like that?"

Herlihy stood up, hands on hips. "Why not? I understand from the news that he ain't doin' too well. That tells me he could still end up in the morgue. But regardless, we didn't have anything to do with it."

"Not even with poisoning him while he's in the hospital?" asked Reid as he got to his feet.

Herlihy's eyebrows arched upward. "Somebody poisoned him? More power to 'im. But we had nothing to do with either incident."

Morgan and Reid glanced at each other. "Thank you for your time," Morgan said as he and Reid prepared to leave the premises. "We'll let ourselves out." They turned and exited the residence leaving the Herlihys glaring at their receding backs.

* * *

As they trotted down the front steps, Morgan glanced at his partner. "Neither of them shot Jack McCoy," he said.

"I know. Malcolm Herlihy believes his fingerprints were found on the gun used in the shooting." Standing outside the front passenger-side door, Reid stared at his partner across the hood of their car. "And considering their feelings for the man, I believe if one of them _had_ shot McCoy, they're both arrogant enough to make sure that the police knew they had done it. They wouldn't conceal it." He opened the car door.

Morgan opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel. He waited until Reid had slid into the passenger seat before he removed his cell phone. He pressed the buttons for the person he needed to call, then put the phone to his ear.

"Who are you calling?" asked Reid.

Morgan waved his hand at Reid gesturing for quiet as there was a click on the other end.

"This is Agent Morgan with the FBI. Can I speak with Abby Carmichael please? I'll wait."

"Why are you calling her?" Reid whispered curiously so as not to interrupt the phone call.

"Miss Carmichael? This is Agent Morgan, FBI. Fine, thank you. Listen, we need to speak as soon as possible. Yes, I can be there within the hour. Thanks. Bye." He disconnected the call before putting away his cell. Then, he started the engine.

"I assume we're heading to the DA's office?" asked the genius.

"You assume right, Kid. Miss Carmichael is expecting us."

"I'm sure she'll be glad to hear that the Herlihys' had nothing to do with shooting McCoy, and can be crossed off the list of suspects."

"That's not why I want to speak with her, though," Morgan interjected.

"I don't understand."

Morgan exhaled deeply and glanced at Reid. "I want to talk with her as to whether or not McCoy concealed any evidence during Jacob Herlihy's trial."

"Don't tell me you _believe_ what they said? If you do, then you're questioning the word of an ADA and two detectives. Not to mention Hotch who knows McCoy well. He's not going to like it when he finds out you suspect McCoy might be dirty."

"It's not that I think he's dirty, Kid. Far from it."

"Then what is it?"

"I need to know _why_ the Herlihys are so certain he was concealing evidence in the first place. The DA thinks McCoy's shooting is personal rather than professional. If anything, we need to make sure there are no unanswered questions regarding Jacob's trial, and whether or not the motive for McCoy's shooting is the same as for the other killings. If it isn't, then we need to find out exactly _what_ is the motive behind his shooting."

* * *

Briscoe nodded at the uniform outside McCoy's apartment door before he, Curtis, and Prentiss, after showing her credentials, walked inside and closed the door.

"Typical bachelor's apartment," Emily replied with a chuckle looking around.

"Yeah," Briscoe quipped. "Not quite Oscar Madison and not quite Felix Unger." (1)

"And you found nothing amiss anywhere," Emily stated as she looked through the papers scattered on McCoy's worn desk. The papers contained nothing unusual; just paid and unpaid bills, personal letters from past associates, and letters from organizations offering payment for speaking engagements, most of which had been declined.

"Not a thing," Curtis added. "And no sign anybody was searching for something. The only sign somebody had been in here was that we found the door ajar when we got here."

Prentiss nodded when she noticed a framed photo of a young woman with short brunette hair with dark eyes on the corner of the desk. She picked it up to look at it, Curtis looking over her shoulder. "This could be his daughter, Rebecca. It's definitely an old picture," She said before putting it back where she found it. (2)

"How can you tell?" asked the junior detective.

"Photo shows signs of wear and tear despite being in a frame. It's also a bit faded. Tells me this is the most recent photo he has of her despite it being old."

Briscoe pointed to the answering machine which no longer had a blinking red light. "We only heard the one recorded message which you already know about." He sighed. "Rey and I suspect it might have been left by the same person who broke in."

"And what does that tell you, Detective?" she asked Curtis.

Curtis glanced at Briscoe and then the agent. "We believe the breaking into of McCoy's apartment and the recorded message were both a ploy to steer us off track."

Prentiss smiled. "We may make a profiler out of you yet, Detective," she teased.

"Heaven forbid," Briscoe joked. "He's difficult enough to work with as he is now."

Emily scanned McCoy's bookcase on which sat several law volumes on the shelves. One particular volume caught her eye. She removed that one book and began thumbing through it until something caught her eye. It was a folded sheet of paper.

"What is that?" asked Curtis curiously as he watched Emily put the open book atop a nearby table, remove a pair of latex gloves, and don them. She then removed the folded slip of paper, unfolded it, and let her eyes scan it's contents.

"Looks like this was something McCoy wanted to keep his boss, Adam Schiff, and the police, from knowing about," she said before she read it out loud. _"McCoy, I'll get you before you can get me. Signed you-know-who."_ She looked between the two detectives.

"So who's 'you-know-who'?" asked Briscoe staring at his partner with narrowed eyes.

"Possibly the same person who left the phone message," said Rey.

"Could be," Prentiss explained. "Could also be left by whoever wants to steer us off track." She removed a cellophane bag from her pocket, deposited the paper inside and sealed it. "We'll need to have the lab check this for prints. My guess is we'll only find McCoy's prints on it. There's no envelope and there's no date on the note, so there's no way to tell how old it is, or where it was sent from."

"Why would the counselor keep a letter threatening him hidden instead of turning it over to either his boss or the police?" asked Briscoe. "Knowing McCoy as we do, it seems out of character for him. I mean, he never lets anybody or anything intimidate him regarding anything."

"That's what we've heard as well," Prentiss said.

"Just out of curiosity," Curtis began. "How did you know that paper was in that particular book?"

"In examining the law books on the shelf, detective, I noticed a slight space in the middle of one as if a book-marker might be present marking a place in the book. Since I didn't see a book-marker, I assumed something was marking the place where one would be. It told me McCoy had something there instead of a book-marker. In this case, a folded paper on which is written a death threat."

* * *

Schiff was bent over while seated in the chair with arms resting on his thighs with hands folded between his knees. He stared at his ADA hoping for…what? Something. Anything.

"C'mon, Jack. You've proven you're still in there fighting. Agent Hotchner got you to come back to us if only for a few short minutes. Now I'm asking you to come back again if only for a few minutes."

Just then, the door behind Schiff opened causing the older man to look over his shoulder. Hotch was walking into the room with a blank expression on his face. The agent approached the older man and stood beside the chair. He was holding a paper in one hand.

"Dr. Smythe gave me a copy of the tox report and I had him make a copy of it for you." He handed the paper to the District Attorney.

"And?" Schiff asked.

"It was definitely Narcan that Jack was poisoned with," Hotch explained folding his arms across his chest.

"That's what Smythe told me he suspected when we discovered Jack had been poisoned."

Adam rubbed his temple with a thumb and forefinger. "I just can't believe somebody is doing this to him." He looked up into Hotch's face. "Why is somebody doing this to him, Hotch? What did he ever do except his job that would warrant somebody to do this to him? Can you please tell me that?"

Hotch let out a deep breath. "I wish I could tell you, Adam. I really do. But I _promise_ you we will find the person or people responsible." He was about to say something else when there was a muffled ringing coming from inside his jacket. He reached inside, removed his cellphone, and checked the caller ID. "Excuse me, but I need to answer this." He pressed the phone to his ear as he walked across the room out of hearing range.

"Hotchner."

Schiff turned his attention back to McCoy and his breath suddenly caught in his throat. McCoy's head was now turned toward him. But that wasn't what caught the man's attention. The ADA was staring at him through open but narrowed eyes.

"Jack, can you say anything? Anything at all?"

A faint groan of pain was the only response. But it did appear that the man was trying to say something else and that it was extremely difficult for him.

"Jack," Schiff urged patiently. He gently stroked McCoy's dark hair.

"Ad…dum," was all McCoy could mutter followed by another groan of pain, and his eyes closed again.

* * *

(1) Sloppy Oscar Madison and Neat freak Felix Unger were characters played by Jack Klugman and Tony Randall on the Odd Couple on ABC from 1970 thru 1975 based on the 1968 movie of the same name. Jack Lemmon played Felix and Walter Matthau played Oscar in the film. Both the movie and television show were favorites of mine and so were all four actors.

(2) Being his daughter, I assume McCoy would have a photo of Rebecca on his desk at home even though none is proven or seen. According to the series, there is a framed black-and-white photo of a dark-haired woman on the cabinet behind his desk at work. Her identity is unknown.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Jack! Jack!" Schiff repeatedly called out when Hotch walked up behind him. He put a hand on the older man's shoulder and felt the tenseness.

"What is it?" Hotch asked. "What happened?" He could tell something had occurred while he was talking on his cell. Something that had shaken the older man.

"Jack regained consciousness for a few seconds. He looked at me and said my name. Then he passed out again," Schiff said with eyes focused on McCoy.

Hotch moved closer to the bed and stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. He looked down at the unconscious man. "Apparently he awakens only long enough to say your name," he said. "I think he's trying to tell you something but isn't able to right now."

"Tell me what?"

"Of course this is only conjecture on my part as we just began our investigation, but I suspect he may have gotten a brief look at who shot him and is trying to tell you. But he hasn't got the strength right now to get the name out. All he can say is your name."

Schiff stared at the agent incredulously. "How do you know this?"

"The phone call I just received was from Agent Prentiss. She and Detectives Briscoe and Curtis went to Jack's apartment to have a look around. And she found something interesting."

"Interesting like what?" Schiff asked now looking directly into Hotch's face. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

"She found a folded single sheet of paper inside one of Jack's law books. It was a letter threatening his life."

"A letter threaten…Oh My God," Schiff stated. He massaged his temples with a thumb and forefinger.

"She says, and I must concur, that someone was threatening his life and he may have an idea who it is."

Schiff exhaled deeply. "Why wouldn't he tell me about this letter or turn it over to the police. It makes no sense he would keep it to himself."

"Adam, I've only known Jack for a few months while you several years, but we both know the type of person he is. He refuses to let himself be intimidated. Right now only he can say why he concealed that letter. And it's too soon to say whether his shooting is personal or professional. And until he actually comes out of his coma and can talk for more than just a few seconds, we can't ask him. I'm sorry."

"I know it's not your fault. It's just…"

"It's just what?"

"It's just that I want so badly to put away the bastard or bastards who did this to him. And now that may not happen," he said while he studied his ADA's face.

"Oh it will still happen," Hotch replied. "It's just that we'll have to work harder and longer. But trust me when I say we _will_ get the guilty party or parties."

Schiff grunted as he slowly collapsed into the hard chair. He let out a deep breath. "So what happens now?" he asked staring blankly into space.

"We keep investigating and reviewing the evidence the police have found before we arrived. It'll take time but the answer is there and we will find it. You have my word on that."

Schiff reached back and patted the agent's hand gently. "I know you will." He paused momentarily. "Did Agent Prentiss say anything else?"

"Only that it seems the door of his apartment was left ajar to indicate somebody had been inside. There was no sign whoever broke in stole anything or was searching for something. There was only a message left on his answering machine." Hotch repeated the message left by the caller on the machine.

Schiff looked up at Hotch, and the agent could see the weariness in the man's eyes. "It adds credence to the theory that Jack's shooting was part of a conspiracy, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. But it doesn't mean we're ruling out that it could be personal. His shooting could have been committed by somebody who wanted it lumped in with the conspiracy. And if that's the case, then we need to find out what that personal motive is."

Schiff sighed. "You said you wanted to talk with me after you spoke with Smythe?"

Hotch sat down beside Jack's outstretched hand. He organized his words before he spoke. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened from the moment Jack went to trial to prosecute Jacob Herlihy for the murder of Officer Sampler, to the time you found out about his shooting. I also need you to tell me what, if any, evidence he had that may have been exculpatory. And please try not to leave anything out." (1)

"I'll do my best."

* * *

Stepping out of the elevator at One Hogan Place, Morgan and Reid were greeted by Abby Carmichael.

"Miss Carmichael," Morgan said.

"Agent Morgan." She gazed at the younger agent. "And you?"

Reid was mesmerized by the young woman's beauty. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid," he said.

Abby's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kind of young to be a medical doctor, aren't you?"

The genius grinned having heard the comment before. "I'm not that kind of doctor," he remarked. "I'm a doctor of statistics and probabilities. I'm also a genius with an IQ of 187, have an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words a minute."

Abby's eyebrows arched upward as her eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Spencer hung his head, embarrassed. Morgan glanced at the man then looked at the woman. "Trust me, he's serious."

Abby shrugged. "By the way, there's a coworker of yours here; a Jennifer Jareau. She helped finish going through Jack's cases with two detectives from the 27th Precinct."

"JJ's here?" asked Reid.

"Why do you call her JJ?"

"Her full name is Jennifer Jareau. It's easier just to call her JJ."

"Then yes, she's here."

"Abby, were you able to sort out the cases the way Hotch wanted after my phone call?" Morgan asked.

"Yes. With Agent Jareau's help, we completed going through all the cases, and have a total of twenty suspect cases that fit the timeline you set. Out of those twenty, eight are still open; six Jack is planning to retry, and two he has already retried and won."

"Good. We'll need to look through those cases," Morgan explained.

"There's something else," Reid interjected.

"Oh?"

"Yes. We spoke with Malcolm and Estelle Herlihy before we came here. We're positive _neither_ of them had anything to do with shooting McCoy."

"Not that I'm not relieved, agents, but are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive. When we spoke with them, they not only denied the shooting, but admitted they wouldn't even try to hide the fact they did it if responsible. Also, Malcolm denies his fingerprints were found on the gun when we know there weren't any prints. Says he would've wiped them off. And they didn't admit to the poisoning. There's just no way a pair that arrogant would not take credit if they were responsible. They'd want the entire world to know what they did."

"So we cross them off the list of suspects."

"'Fraid so. Abby, I need to speak with you while Reid and JJ go over those cases. Is there somewhere you and I can talk privately?"

"Sure. You can wait for me in Mr. Schiff's office. You remember where it is. I'll join you after I escort Doctor Reid to Jack's office where Agent Jareau is."

* * *

"So in your opinion, Jack had enough evidence to go to trial and prosecute Jacob Herlihy?" asked Hotch after listening to the older man for nearly two hours.

"Yes. There's no doubt he would get a conviction. Especially with the testimonies of Detectives Briscoe and Curtis. Jack told me when he prepped them before trial that they would make the case for him."

"How did they accomplish that?"

Schiff massaged his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. "I don't know much except that it was their testimonies that won the conviction for Jack. You'd do better talking with Miss Carmichael as she was second chair and worked closely with Jack during the case. Also, if you haven't done so yet, speak with Briscoe and Curtis as they were the investigating detectives. That way you'll get the complete story."

Hotch checked his watch then sighed. "I need to get back to the 27th Precinct and compare notes with the members of my team." He looked at the older man. "Adam, agents are now guarding Jack instead of uniforms. He's well protected. You're exhausted. Why don't you go home, get something to eat, and then some sleep. You can come back tomorrow. I'm sure the hospital will contact you if there's any change."

Folding his arms across his chest, Schiff looked sideways at the Unit Chief.

"I can't do that, Hotch. I need to be here in case he wakes up. Somebody he knows needs to be here so if and when he regains consciousness, he doesn't wake up alone."

Hotch secretly had to admire the older man's dedication and smiled. "In other words, you're staying here."

Schiff grinned. "Those would be the exact words."

* * *

Abby opened the door to McCoy's office revealing only one person in the room. Hearing the door open, JJ turned in her chair to see who had entered. She nodded at Carmichael and then smiled affectionately when her bright blue eyes fell on Spencer.

"I understand you two work together," Abby said glancing between the two agents. Then she looked at Reid. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to meet with Agent Morgan." She nodded to them both before exiting the office and closing the door giving them privacy.

"Spence, I didn't expect to see you here," JJ remarked pulling one of the extra chairs closer beside her.

"I didn't expect to be here," Spence replied sitting down. "Morgan and I questioned Malcom and Estelle Herlihy and their interrogations raised questions about the evidence McCoy brought to trial and the best person to tell us about it is Abby Carmichael. So, here we are. Derek's questioning Miss Carmichael, and I'm here to hopefully help you with these cases." Reid moved his chair closer to McCoy's desk. "So, what do you have?"

"Just these," JJ began handing him a small stack of files. "Of the twenty cases, these are the eight that are still open." She then pointed to a slightly larger stack sitting on the desk near her. "Six more are slated for retrial, and two others Jack retried and won."

Reid took in and let out a deep breath. "Then let's get to work and see if we can reduce these cases down to a manageable amount." He picked up the top file.

* * *

Abby sat down in the chair behind Schiff's desk. She folded her hands atop the desk.

"Now, what did you want to speak with me about, agent? You didn't give me much to go on when you called."

Morgan, sitting in the chair facing Schiff's desk, crossed his legs and placed his clasped hands in his lap. He stared at the brunette across from him.

"As you were told, when Doctor Reid and I questioned the Herlihys, they kept mentioning that McCoy concealed evidence at Herlihy's trial."

Abby's dark eyes flashed in anger. "_Jack is not dirty!"_ she said in a raised voice, just short of shouting. "He's the most _honest_, the most _moral,_ and the most _honorable_ man I know. Sure he pushes the envelope now and then when he's trying a case, but he would never…"

"Whoa…" Morgan interrupted holding up both hands, palms forward, stopping her. "In no way am I saying he's dirty or would conceal evidence. But I need to know _why_ the Herlihys believe he did. Their suspicion goes a long way as to what the motive is behind McCoy's shooting. That's why I ask the question."

Abby relaxed and licked her lips. "Let me get this straight. Are you saying that Jack's shooting might not be so much related to his work as it is personal?"

Derek nodded slowly. "Exactly. Before we proceed, we need to determine the exact motive and whether it's the same as for the other four shootings. If you can just tell me if any of his evidence was exculpatory would be a big help in determining that."

"I'll do my best. Where do you want me to begin?"

"First, tell me what evidence you and McCoy had before you went to trial."

* * *

(1) Exculpatory evidence is evidence favorable to the defense in a criminal trial that exonerates or tends to exonerate the defendant of guilt. Found in Wikipedia.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Schiff let out a deep breath as he ran a hand over his head. "That's everything I remember," he told Hotch. "Miss Carmichael might know more as she worked side-by-side with Jack during the trial. You can check with her. Also, you should talk with Briscoe and Curtis. They were the investigating detectives. And finally, check with Lt. Van Buren. She can fill in any blanks you might still have."

"We are and thank you," said Hotch. He was about to get to his feet when they both heard the muffled ringing of Hotch's cell.

"Excuse me while I take this." Reaching inside his jacket, the agent took out his cell and checked the caller ID. With a glance at Schiff, Hotch pressed the speaker button after he saw who was calling.

"You're on speaker, Garcia," he said.

"Sorry it took so long to get back to you, Mon Capitan," began Penelope cheerily. "But your Queen of Technological Wonder has found cracks in that blue wall you asked about earlier. But you're not gonna like what I found."

"What did you find?" He glanced at Schiff again. Like himself, the older man was listening intently.

"Well, sir, and please keep in mind that it's not only hard to research the police but to find out which member of the blue wall had a grudge against Jack McCoy. But the genius that I am, I managed to penetrate that impenetrable blue wall to seek out and have found the 411 you asked for. And also let me assure you that…"

"Garcia!" Hotch reprimanded cutting off her rambling. Schiff found himself chuckling at the interaction between the two.

"Sorry, sir. I found only one member of the police who bore a grudge against McCoy. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a grudge in terms of what we know a grudge to be. I'd call it more of a disagreement. And I gotta tell you, sir, considering how many men in blue he prosecuted, to find only one who was sort of angry with him if you pardon my saying so, is really odd. And before you ask, In addition, I'm still checking on relatives of those he did prosecute."

"Who's the officer who has the grudge?"

There was a long pause before Garcia spoke again. And for a moment, Hotch feared the connection between them had been broken.

"Penelope, are you still there?" he asked.

"Still here, sir. It's just that I'm kinda hesitant to say his name because he's involved in investigating who shot McCoy."

"_Who_, Garcia?" Hotch asked in his 'no nonsense' tone.

"Rey Curtis."

"_Detective_ Rey Curtis?" asked Schiff, stunned.

"Who is this?" asked Penelope not familiar with the different voice on the phone.

"This is District Attorney Adam Schiff, young lady. I am Jack McCoy's boss. Now, what were you saying about Detective Curtis?" He massaged his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

"Sorry, sir. My Liege, it involves a case in which McCoy was forced into a plea agreement so the police could find a missing car driver, one Mitchell Titus."

Schiff stared directly at Hotch who looked at him with arched eyebrows.

"I remember the case. Jack lost a lot of sleep over that one," the older man said.

"Care to explain?" asked the agent.

"Two men, Henry Harp and his partner Earl Novak, robbed a liquor store, killed an off-duty police officer in the process, and kidnapped a car driver. Harp was shot by the cop during the robbery before he was killed," Schiff explained. "While hospitalized, Harp dictated a plea arrangement to his lawyer and demanded it be signed by an ADA in exchange for disclosing the location of Mitchell Titus. The agreement was that he would serve only fifteen years if Titus was found dead. Hoping to save the driver's life, Jack felt blackmailed into signing that agreement in order to find out where Titus had been hidden. What we didn't know at the time was that he was already dead, and had been for at least twenty-four hours. Afterward, Jack sidestepped the agreement and got a new plea agreement for the maximum penalty." (1)

"What type of new plea agreement?"

"Harp is currently serving forty years in prison."

"He is correct, My Liege," Garcia picked up the conversation at that point. "McCoy sidestepped the original agreement by prosecuting Harp for the murder of his partner, Earl Novak. Bottom line, sir, is Harp basically walked for killing the police officer, but got forty years for killing Novak who murdered both the store owner during the robbery and the car driver. Both Briscoe and Curtis were not happy to say the least with Harp basically walking for killing a cop."

"I can only imagine," Hotch remarked. He felt for the predicament McCoy had found himself in at the time, and wondered what he would have done had he still been a prosecutor and in the same situation.

"Miss Carmichael told me that McCoy explained to both detectives that by not opposing the original agreement he entered into with Harp, he could use his statement admitting to the robbery and kidnapping of Titus in a later prosecution, like when he tried him for killing Novak," Schiff continued. "She explained that Briscoe seemed to come to terms with it, but Curtis had a problem with the fact that Harp would ironically end up walking for killing a cop, but go to prison for killing the cop killer. He was angry with Jack for it. And from what I understand, he only recently came to terms with it after several long talks with Briscoe who pointed out that McCoy was right in what he did." (2)

"Are you sure Detective Curtis isn't still angry with Jack?" asked Hotch seriously. "We can't afford to overlook anything right now."

"Not sure," Adam replied. "But I've known both Briscoe and Curtis for several years now, and so has McCoy and Miss Carmichael. They're good cops and we trust them explicitly. Also, they were both present in the courtroom at the time of the shooting so Curtis couldn't have done it."

Hotch considered what he heard. "I'm sure you're right. And the fact that he was in the courtroom with Briscoe and several other officers tells me he didn't have the opportunity to shoot him even if he had a motive. But we at least have to look into it."

"I understand," Schiff answered gently. He didn't like it, but knew it had to be done.

"Sir?" said Garcia.

"What is it, Penelope?" asked Hotch.

"There's still nothing on Doctor Varick or Simon Heffner, but I'm still searching. I'll get back to you when I find something."

"Let me know if you find _anything_, Penelope. I don't care how small."

"Okey dokey. Your wish is my command. Garcia out."

After the call was disconnected, Hotch put his cell back inside his jacket. He sighed as he looked at the older man.

"I can't even imagine how Detective Curtis is going to react when he finds out he is being looked at for shooting McCoy. Even if just to clear up a possible misunderstanding." He exhaled deeply. "However, I do believe from what you told me that we should be able to eliminate him right away. And personally, other than understanding he has a quick temper, I don't believe he did it either."

"And if you can't?"

"Then his name will be added to the suspect list, and both he and Detective Briscoe will be forced to excuse themselves from taking part in the investigation. But as you said, they were both there. But if it turns out Curtis had something to do with this, he couldn't have done it without Briscoe at least knowing about it. Regardless, he'll probably be angry about it, but that's the way it'll have to be."

* * *

"So what can you tell me, Miss Carmichael?" asked Morgan.

"There was nothing that was exculpatory," Abby began. "We turned over everything we had to the defense."

"Exactly what evidence _did_ you and McCoy have against Herlihy?"

Abby let out a deep breath. "Let's see. GSR was found on Herlihy's right hand and on his shirt. We also found a box of nine millimeter shells in his desk drawer at home which were a match for a Glock 17 even though we didn't have the gun at the time. A man matching his description was seen in the area of Officer Sampler's home, and a fingerprint was found on the gun safe in Sampler's home and was an exact match to Herlihy. The only thing we didn't have was we couldn't place him at the scene of the shooting." (3)

"What about the testimonies of Briscoe and Curtis?"

"Their investigation couldn't turn up anybody who could place Jacob at the scene of the murder. Further investigation led to them obtaining a search warrant for his home. They searched the entire house until they found he had not only changed clothes, but that the clothes he had previously been seen earlier in were hidden in a pile of dirty rags to be discarded. They noticed blood stains on the trousers and shirt sleeves. They sent the clothes to the lab who were able to match those stains with Sampler's blood. Based on that, they arrested Herlihy at home. We were able to convict him even without the gun."

"And once the weapon was recovered after McCoy's shooting, was Forensics able to match the gun?"

Abby nodded. "They were able to match the bullets taken from Officer Sampler to the bullet removed from Jack during surgery. They were matched to the weapon owned by the deceased officer. Of course, that didn't help during the trial because, like I just said, we didn't have the gun at the time."

Derek sighed. "Sounds like Malcolm and Estelle Herlihy has no reason to suspect McCoy had concealed evidence at Jacob's trial."

"As I told you, Agent Morgan, we did everything on the up-and-up during this trial, and gave all evidence to the defense as we're required to by law. Now if they still have a problem, instead of blaming Jack by claiming he concealed evidence, maybe they should check how he himself was represented."

"Are you saying Herlihy had ineffective representation?"

"Far from me to claim the defense attorney was ineffective, did not act in good faith, or did not accurately and fairly represent him, but that has nothing to do with me or Jack. That is a decision for the Appeals Court. It is up to them to decide if a guilty verdict is to be reversed and order a new trial. But the bottom line agent, is that the Peoples' case was solid."

* * *

JJ and Reid had finished reviewing the twenty suspect cases. Out of those twenty, they eliminated all but the two cases McCoy had retried and won, and the eight which were still open. The other ten were eliminated altogether.

"Narrowing it down to ten, we at least got it down to a somewhat manageable number," sighed JJ as she thumbed through the top folder of the two which had been retried in her lap. Reid opened the top folder of the eight still open sitting in his lap.

"This folder regarding Doctor Christian Varick I find particularly interesting," said Reid as he thumbed through Varick's folder. "On the surface I don't see him as the type to be either a possible killer or computer literate. Then again, we don't know enough about him to be sure."

"We need to get Derek then head back to the precinct," said JJ. Gripping the two folders in her hands, she got to her feet. "We also need to let Abby Carmichael know we're going to take these ten folders with us. It's possible we might be able to rule out others."

Spencer pulled out his cell phone and scrolled down the contact list until he found the one he wanted. He pressed the button and put the phone to his ear.

"Who are you calling?" asked JJ with a toss of her head. Reid held up a forefinger gesturing for quiet.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, it's Reid."

"Yes, Reid. What do you have?"

"You can forget about the Herlihys. They're not responsible for what happened to McCoy, but questioning them did raise questions."

"Like what?"

"We wondered what made them suspect McCoy was concealing evidence at Herlihy's trial." He knew from the silence on the other end that his supervisor was upset that one of his own teammates was questioning his opinion of Jack McCoy.

"Reid, I can assure you that Jack is not dirty." There was an angry tone to his voice which told Reid the Unit Chief resented the inference into the prosecutor's ethics. From the short time they had known each other, Hotch had found McCoy to be the most ethical man he'd ever met.

"We're not saying he is, Hotch. Trust me when I say that neither Morgan nor I believe that. But what we need to pin down if the motive for his shooting is the same as it was for the others. Because if it isn't, then we may have to consider his shooting personal."

"Good thinking, Spencer. If this shooting_ is_ personal, then whoever is responsible is hoping it'll be lumped into the conspiracy like the others. I'm still at the hospital but I'm heading back to the police precinct. Are you and Morgan heading back as well?"

"Not yet. We decided to follow up on our suspicion by stopping at the District Attorney's office. Morgan's talking with Abby Carmichael and JJ and I finished going through McCoy's cases from his time in the DA's office."

"JJ came with you?"

"She was already here when Derek and I arrived."

"Find anything useful?"

Reid went on to explain about the ten cases they had found 'interesting.'

"Hotch, has Garcia found Doctor Christian Varick yet?" he asked.

Hotch sighed. "Nothing yet. But once we look at those other cases you have, we may have to expand her research list."

"As soon as we get Morgan we'll head back to the 27th Precinct. It all depends on as soon as he's finished speaking with Miss Carmichael."

"I understand," Hotch said. "Before you leave, make sure you let her know we need to borrow those files," said Hotch. "Then I want you, JJ, and Morgan back here. Prentiss is on her way back and so is Rossi. We need to compare notes on what we've found out so far and before we give the profile."

* * *

(1) The L&O episode referred to is DOUBLE DOWN, Season 7, episode 19.

(2) In the same episode, Jaime Ross was McCoy's female ADA, but for purposes of this story, I used Abby Carmichael.

(3) GSR is gunshot residue.


	19. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

When Hotch walked into the squad room, his eyes were focused solely on Van Buren's office across the room. He spotted her standing behind her desk gesturing for him to join her. He also spotted both detectives seated in chairs in front of her desk. They were looking over their shoulders in his direction. He strode briskly in the direction of her office.

Van Buren, knowing she had gotten the profiler's attention, sat back down behind her desk to wait. She noticed both detectives now staring at her questioningly.

"I assume Agent Hotchner is about to dazzle us with more of his profiling ability," Briscoe joked with a nervous smile as he crossed his legs.

"You can ask him yourself," the lieutenant replied looking upward as the door to her office opened and Hotch walked inside with a blank expression on his face which he directed at the woman. "Agent Hotchner."

"Lieutenant." He glanced at both detectives briefly then back at Van Buren. "Can I borrow your office for a few minutes? I'm not throwing you out by any means. I would just prefer to speak with your detectives alone." He noticed her worried expression. "I _promise_ you nobody's in trouble. I just need to clarify something, and I think it's better if it's done in private."

Van Buren looked at each detective individually. "Of course." She got to her feet and stepped out from behind her desk, glancing in the direction of the dark-haired agent. "Take all the time you need."

Hotch, gentleman that he is, opened the office door and held it open allowing the female officer to exit. Then he closed the door and sat behind the desk occupying the chair Van Buren had just vacated. Leaning back in the chair, he rested his elbows on the armrests, and pyramided his fingertips together in front of his face. His dark eyes focusing on the men in front of him.

"So what are we doing here?" asked Briscoe.

"This actually involves your partner, detective," Hotch began. "But _because_ you are partners, it could have an effect on you as well." His eyes switched to Curtis.

"Detective Curtis, how do you feel about Jack McCoy?"

Curtis arched both eyebrows. He ran one hand up and down his thigh. "I don't know what you mean."

"What I mean is, are you still angry with him regarding the Henry Harp incident?"

Rey licked his suddenly dry lips. "I admit I wasn't pleased with how he handled things. I mean, he let the bastard walk for killing a cop, and then sends him to prison for killing the cop killer. So yeah…yeah, I was angry with him. Why?" Curtis's eyes suddenly narrowed as he glared at Hotch and leaned forward. "You think _I _shot McCoy? Is this what this Q&A session is for?"

"Did I say that, detective?" Hotch kept his voice calm. "I'm merely asking a question."

Briscoe stared at the agent, hoping to diffuse the situation peacefully. "But you _do_ think Rey had something to do with what happened, don't you? Look, I was with him in the courtroom and can swear on a stack of bibles he didn't have anything to do with shooting the counselor."

Curtis leaped to his feet angrily. He jabbed his finger just short of Hotch's nose as his face reddened. _"You have some nerve!"_ he shouted at the agent. _"You come in here with your fancy suit and…"_

"_Sit down, Detective Curtis!"_ Hotch demanded authoritatively, dark eyes flashing.

At that precise moment, the office door opened and Van Buren, keeping an eye on the proceedings in her office from the squad room, stood in the doorway. Her eyes staring at the trio temporarily stopping the interrogation. "Is everything all right in here?" she asked coolly. "I heard shouting." Her eyes drilled a hole in the back of Curtis's head. "Rey?"

The junior detective was silent. Van Buren turned her attention to Hotch.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Everything's fine, Lieutenant. There's no problem here."

Van Buren then glanced at her senior detective. "Lennie?"

"Like Agent Hotchner said, L.T., there's no problem here."

"Fine. Then let's try and keep it down in here, okay?" She backed out of the room and closed the door again leaving the trio alone.

"C'mon, Rey," Briscoe added gently coaxing him to sit back down. "I'm sure Agent Hotchner's not accusing you of shooting the counselor." He glanced at the profiler. "Am I right?" he asked hopefully.

Hotch glanced at the older detective then at the junior detective. "He's right. I'm not accusing you of anything. I understand from our technical analyst in Quantico, and from talking with the District Attorney, that you were angry with McCoy. I understand that. I merely want to know if you are still angry at him despite having talked things over with your partner."

Curtis ground his lower jaw while Briscoe massaged the back of the younger man's neck. He looked at Hotch hoping to eliminate all suspicion his partner had done something wrong.

"Look, Rey is quick tempered. I know that and so does L.T. But he didn't shoot McCoy. You have my word on that. Sure he was angry with the counselor about Harp walking on killing a cop, and going to jail for killing his partner. We both were. But we talked about it…often. I began to understand why McCoy handled things the way he did. After a while, Rey got over his anger."

Hotch had listened to Briscoe's explanation closely. Then he turned his attention back to Rey Curtis. "Is that how it was, Detective?" he asked gently. He really _didn't_ consider the detective a suspect, but he really needed to clarify things.

Curtis took in and let out a deep breath before he stared at Hotch, all traces of anger now erased.

"Yeah. It's like Lennie said. We talked about things and he pointed out that if McCoy hadn't withdrawn his objection to accepting Harp's statement, he would've lost the confession and it would've hurt his case in the long run."

"Is that because he wouldn't have been able to use it at trial?"

"Yeah. The bastard might have walked altogether. Lennie made me realize that's what would've happened if McCoy hadn't dropped his objection to the deal he'd been forced to make."

Briscoe looked Hotch directly in the eyes. "Look, Jack McCoy is a lot of things to a lot of people. Some of those things are good, some of 'em are not so good. Rey and I have had our disagreements with him at times. But despite our disagreements, _never_, not even _once,_ has Rey or I ever even considered harming him. That's because despite our occasional disagreements with him, we consider McCoy a friend."

Hotch nodded then let out a deep breath. "Thank you both." Getting to his feet, he held out his hand towards Curtis. "Please accept my apology again, detective, for misleading you into thinking I considered you a suspect in the shooting. That was never my intention. But as it came up in our investigation we had to look into it. I hope you understand."

Rey and Briscoe slowly got to their feet. Curtis stared at the agent's outstretched hand. Ignoring it, he simply turned and walked out of the office leaving Hotch and Briscoe alone. Hotch let his hand drop to his side. Lennie sighed and studied the agent.

"Sorry about that. As I said, he's got a quick temper. I oughtta know. I have to put up with 'im every day. I'll talk to 'im. I'll make sure he understands you weren't accusing him of anything."

Hotch sighed wearily. "I appreciate it. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Lennie replied. "Listen, can we talk for a few minutes?"

Hotch folded his arms in front of him. "Of course. What's on your mind?" he asked sitting on the edge of the desk.

Briscoe exhaled as he sat back down. "Remember when you and Agent Jareau first arrived and I asked you to profile me."

"Yes." Hotch had a feeling where this was going, but didn't interrupt. He knew Briscoe needed to get what he was about to say off his chest.

Lennie licked his lips. "Agent Jareau said I started drinking again after witnessing an event. Then you said that I was so drunk that I needed somebody to drive me home, and that person had an accident that I still blame myself for."

"I remember."

"Well, after the execution, I took the rest of the day to process my part in things. I mean, Rey and I were the ones who arrested Mickey Scott so McCoy and Kincaid could fry 'im." He noticed Hotch's puzzled expression. "Claire Kincaid was McCoy's ADA at the time." He then cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyway, I decided to stop at an OTB and play the ponies. While I was there my youngest daughter, Cathy, had called the Precinct looking for me, and after being told I had taken off for the day, had figured out where I went. We took a walk and tried having a heart-to-heart. To put it mildly, it ended badly and she walked away. I think we parted company more estranged than ever." Briscoe paused and became somewhat philosophical. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have your own kid hate your guts?"

Hotch bowed his head as he listened. He was extremely fortunate in that he and Jack loved each other as much as they did, and that his son considered him a superhero. Also, his late wife had encouraged their relationship despite the problems in their marriage. Listening to the detective talk, he didn't know how he'd react if Jack hated him. He licked his lips.

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you. It's probably as difficult for her as it is for you. I'm willing to bet in time she'll come around. Just give her time."

Briscoe smirked. "Yeah. Time." He sighed. "Anyway, I digress. So after my daughter walked away, I felt worse than I did before, so I ended up in a bar. Ironically it was the same bar McCoy was in. By the time I realized that he was already smashed."(1)

"Is that when you began to drink again after twelve years?"

"Yeah. I was already 'Three Sheets to the Wind' as they say by the time she showed up in the bar." (2)

"She?"

"Claire Kincaid."

"What happened?"

Briscoe sighed then continued. "As I said, I wandered into a bar and found McCoy already there, although I didn't know it at the time. I ordered a drink, and before I knew it, I started to get pretty plastered myself. McCoy told me he was waiting for the woman he had phoned to come pick him up and drive him home. Anyway, his ride never showed, so Jack left and took a cab while I stayed and continued to drink. Several hours later, Claire Kincaid walked in looking for McCoy. I'm assuming she was the woman he had called. Anyhow, seeing my inebriated condition, she offered me a ride home and I accepted. It was while she was driving that the driver's side was slammed into by another car. I learned later that the driver was drunk. Claire died on impact while I was slightly injured." His lower lip began to quiver as if the tragedy had happened the day before instead of several years ago.

"I still blame myself for her death. If I hadn't walked into that bar…"

"It wasn't your fault, Detective," Hotch said sympathetically. "It was the fault of whoever was driving the other car. He chose to get behind the wheel while inebriated. Not you."

"But it was," Briscoe said, his voice thick with emotion. "She shouldn't even have been on the road at the time. And that's not even the worst part. The worst part is knowing that McCoy still blames himself as well and he wasn't even there when it happened. Funny thing though."

"How do you mean?"

"He told me several months later that Claire had wanted to quit the DA's office after witnessing the execution. He said she'd never been in favor of the Death Penalty, but felt obligated to go. Anyway, he told me he talked her out of quitting. To this day I don't think he's recovered from her death. But what's funny though is I think him not getting over it seems, to me anyway, more personal than professional."

This peaked Hotch's curiosity even more. "How so?"

"Mind you I can't be sure, of course, but the way he talked made me wonder if McCoy and Kincaid were more than coworkers."

Hotch's eyebrows arched. "You think they were lovers?"

Briscoe shrugged. "I'm probably wrong. I mean, they did work very closely together." He leaned closer to the agent. "I'd keep that last part between us if you know what I mean. If I'm wrong, I don't want to embarrass the counselor. Okay?" (3)

"Okay. And you're probably right. There's no proof of anything between the two of them other than work," Hotch lied. He already knew the truth from McCoy who had wanted somebody to talk to who would understand. And Hotch would _never _betray a confidence. He would keep the truth to himself as it was nobody's business as to the involvement of McCoy and his assistant. Nor did it factor into who shot the attorney. Of that he was positive.

"One last thing, Detective…"

"Lennie," Briscoe corrected with a smile.

"Lennie. Just out of curiosity, what happened to the drunk driver who hit Kincaid's car?"

Briscoe sighed deeply. "From what I understand, the creep only got twelve months."

Hotch's lower jaw dropped. He was appalled at the so-called sentence the drunk driver got compared to the damage he had done, and the lives he had changed in some form forever. It was _woefully_ inadequate.

He smiled at the senior Detective and rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "Lennie, her death _was_ and _is_ not your fault. And you need to stop blaming yourself."

"Easier said than done."

Hotch watched Briscoe wipe his moist eyes before he walked out of the office with him following. As her detective hurried past her without stopping, Van Buren looked at the agent questioningly as his eyes scanned the squad room as if looking for something or someone.

"If you're looking for Detective Curtis, he said he was going home. Then he practically ran past me and left the building. If you don't mind my saying so, he looked somewhat angry. What the hell happened in my office?"

Hotch folded his arms across his chest. "Just a difference of opinion. I _swear _he's not in trouble. I just needed to clarify something, and I'm afraid he may have taken what I asked the wrong way. I apologized, and Detective Briscoe said he'd talk to him."

Nodding her understanding, she crossed her arms in front of her. She knew her two best detectives very well. "I'll talk to him as well. I promise you there won't be a problem and he'll still help with your investigation."

"Thank you."

* * *

(1) AFTERSHOCK, Season 6, Episode 23.

(2) Saying someone is 'Three Sheets to The Wind' means that person is very drunk. It is a sailor's expression from sailing ships.

(3) Despite indications on L&O of a sexual relationship between McCoy and Kincaid, nobody ever had any indication of their involvement. I just had Briscoe suspect for purposes of this story.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Alone again, Schiff leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the edge of the bed. His hands were clasped together in front of his face, eyes studying his friend.

"Jack, I may be tired, and I may be an old man, but I'm still here and I'm not leaving," he stated. "Not until you look me in the face and order me to get the hell out. You need somebody you know to be here when you wake up." He moistened his lips. "I know you'd do the same for me if our situations were reversed."

Having been at his ADA's side since his admittance, Adam was aware he was running out of things to say hoping to get his friend to wake up completely. But he made a promise to himself that no matter how long it took, he'd keep repeating everything until it would no longer matter.

_There was that familiar voice again. Adam! It was Adam's voice telling him to do….what? His boss wanted him to do something for him. And due to his love for this older man he thought of as a father, he would force himself to comply. To let him know he heard him._

_He again ordered his eyes to open so he could look at his dear friend. But despite his best effort, and with the bass drum still pounding inside his head, all he could do was open them a crack and no further. His body from the waist down still refused to obey, and oddly he couldn't even feel pain below the waist and it worried him. And from the waist up, he still felt nothing but discomfort. About the only movement he found he could make that didn't require too much effort on his part, was his forefinger on the hand closest to Adam. He was able to tap it against the mattress and could only hope Adam would notice it. He spotted a small smile on the older man's face which told him the older man had seen it! _

Schiff reached forward and lay his hand on top of McCoy's. He noticed the man's cracked open eyes staring at him, and hoped he could keep the man from overexerting himself in an effort to try and communicate with him.

"Jack, don't try and talk. Just listen." He licked his lips again before continuing. "First, I want to tell you that Miss Carmichael is fine. She wasn't hurt at all, but she's very worried about you as am I. We all are including Van Buren and her people. Tap your

finger once if you can hear me." He paused and waited. Jack tapped his forefinger once against the mattress.

_I hear you, Adam. I'm glad Abby is all right. I was so worried about her._

"I need to be honest with you, Jack. And I hope I'm doing the right thing in telling you this." He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, and Jack, despite his restricted vision, could see the moisture in the older man's eyes which told him what Adam had to say next would be difficult for him to say, and probably would be for himself to hear. "The reason you can't move your legs is that you were shot in the lower back. The bullet nicked your spinal cord, and right now you are paralyzed. The doctors don't know whether it's permanent or not, but they're hopeful. More so since the swelling has gone down a bit. But they need the swelling to go down further to be absolutely sure. So don't give up on not being able to walk again, because I have no doubt you will. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

_I'm paralyzed? So that's why my legs won't obey me! __**Paralyzed!**__! Oh God! _

The finger tapped once.

It was then Jack closed his eyes completely before cracking them open again. Schiff sensed while watching him that this news had unnerved his ADA. He didn't want to alarm the man nor upset him, but McCoy always appreciated if not demanded, complete honesty from a person. And especially from those closest to him. For him to find out someone close to him had lied to him regardless of the reason was unacceptable, and Schiff understood that. He then heard the increased beeping sound from the heart monitor before he noticed the tiny green ball bouncing up and down crazily on the screen. He squeezed Jack's hand hoping to calm him down before the situation led to problems and a doctor being summoned.

"I didn't tell you this to upset you. But you always want to know the truth, and _that's_ why I told you. I believe you are going to recover completely and I need you to believe it. But for that to happen, you need to allow yourself time, and not try and rush things as you so often want to do when things don't happen fast enough for you." He heard the incessant beeping on the monitor begin to slow down as McCoy's heartbeat began to return to normal thus allowing him to continue.

"And even if the news is not what we want to hear in the end, you're _still _my best prosecutor. Nothing will ever change that. And I know you have pain in your head right now, but you needn't worry. You weren't shot in the head. The pain you feel is because your head struck the table after you were shot. Your mind is as sharp as it ever was. So I don't want you to even think of giving up on yourself."

McCoy simply stared at him wishing he could communicate his feelings verbally. Instead, his mind was a jumble of conflicted thoughts all running amok.

_You still want me in a courtroom, Adam? How can you even make that decision right now? I just…I don't know if I can face being in a courtroom again. Especially not after what happened. I….I don't know if I can ever face being in a courtroom again after this! I don't want to think about it! Don't make me think about it!_

"Think of your recovery as a long tough case you're prosecuting, and you need to fight with everything in you in order to get a conviction."

McCoy's eyes were closing as he showed signs of tiring. The beeping of the heart monitor had now returned to normal.

_I don't want to think about it! I can't…._

Although he wasn't a profiler like Hotch, Schiff believed he had an idea what might be running through his ADA's mind.

"Jack, I suspect you're either thinking about your shooting, or worried that being in a courtroom again might bring it all back. Don't think about that right now. We'll deal with it when you're ready and not before. I promise you. Right now all you need to worry about is getting better."

Although Schiff couldn't swear to it, he thought there seemed to be a look of relief in Jack's eyes.

"I'll make this quick because I can tell you're getting tired. Aaron and his team are here to help the police find out who shot you. Hotch says he thinks you might have an idea as to who did it. Do you?"

With a groan, McCoy's eyes then shut leaving Schiff to wonder what the answer would have been to his question.

* * *

When Aaron Hotchner walked into the conference room at the 27th Precinct, he found David Rossi standing in front of the white boards with both hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He was studying the information on them. He turned his head and glanced around when he heard the door open.

"Aaron." He turned completely around and faced the Unit Chief.

"Dave. Did you, Emily, and Detectives Briscoe and Curtis find anything when you searched the courtroom where the shooting took place?" He decided to keep what Garcia and Schiff had told him about Rey Curtis to himself until he got a chance to speak with the young detective. There'd be plenty of time to inform the team later.

"We did, and located four additional slugs. I brought them to Forensics and asked they put a rush on 'em. Hopefully we'll hear something from 'em soon. I also think I know how the shooter got the gun into the courtroom."

Hotch reached inside his jacket and removed his phone. He held up a forefinger asking for quiet. "Hold that thought for a minute, will you?" He scrolled down his list of contacts until he found who he wanted. After pressing a button, he then put the phone on speaker as he glanced around hearing the door open behind him. He saw Prentiss walk into the room alone and take a seat. He then turned back to face Rossi again as he heard a familiar voice on other end of his cell.

"Talk dirty to me, my Milk Chocolate Sugar Shack," teased the cherry voice.

Prentiss silently chuckled and Rossi smirked while Hotch looked embarrassed.

"Garcia, its Hotch."

There was a momentary pause. "I'm sorry, sir. Needless to say I thought you were somebody else. I didn't mean…."

"Garcia, get Morgan, Reid, and JJ online while I keep you on speaker."

"Yes, sir. And again I…."

"It's okay. Forget it." He told himself he really needed to have a talk with both Morgan and Garcia.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Hold on."

Hotch waited for several seconds as the tech analyst went about her task of connecting the cellphones so her boss could interact with his missing team members. Once complete, she disconnected her own cell so the others could talk freely.

"Jareau here."

"JJ, where are you, Reid and Morgan right now?" asked Hotch.

"We just left the DA's office with ten files, and are on our way back to the police precinct. We should be there in about an hour."

"Good. Prentiss and Rossi are both here with me." Hotch faced his closest friend.

"Dave, you said you had an idea how our shooter got his gun into the courtroom?"

"I think so. As I left the courtroom, I noticed a large potted palm in an equally large aluminum flowerpot in the hall outside the double doors."

Prentiss pyramided her fingertips and rested her elbows on the table. "I don't see what you're getting at. Carrying a concealed weapon inside wouldn't be possible. He wouldn't get it past the front doors. People are scanned when they enter the courthouse."

"But not security," Rossi continued. "As I was saying, after I spotted the flowerpot, I came closer for a look and saw what looked like the faint outline of a gun in the dirt."

"You're saying the gun was left in the flowerpot for the shooter to pick up, possibly by the accomplice, after he'd been scanned and cleared by security when he entered the courthouse," said Hotch.

"It would make sense," Reid agreed over the speaker. "There's no way the shooter could have gotten a loaded firearm into the courtroom any other way. A scan at the front doors before he entered the courthouse would have stopped him dead in his tracks."

"And that would've, if you pardon the pun, killed the plan to murder McCoy right there and then," Morgan said.

"Exactly," Rossi added. "I believe that Glock was left in the flowerpot outside the courtroom by the accomplice for the shooter to pick up and bring inside the courtroom without anyone knowing what was happening."

Hotch nodded. "And after the shooting and during the ensuing pandemonium, the gunman tosses the gun and glove liners into the trashcan outside the courtroom. This way nobody would have seen anything, and our gunman then joins the crowd being retained in the hallway waiting to be questioned by the police before being allowed to leave the building. And thanks to the glove liners, he wouldn't be worried about gunshot residue or leaving fingerprints on the weapon."

"What about the accomplice?" asked JJ. "Any idea how he might have got out of the courthouse assuming he did?"

"That's if he even left the courthouse," Prentiss said. "He may not have even been in the courthouse when the shooting went down. If he's a hacker, he didn't have to be present. He only had to be in the vicinity to disrupt the feed to the entire courthouse. That also means he had to know the exact time McCoy was going to be shot."

"But then that raises the possibility that something could have gone wrong to disrupt the timing," said JJ. "I mean, suppose something happened causing the reading of the verdict to be delayed if not postponed, like possibly the jury taking longer than it did to reach a decision. Or possibly even a mistrial. Our UnSub runs the risk of having to sit there with a loaded gun hidden on his person for who knows how long."

Emily blew out a deep breath. "She's right. The verdict might have been announced the following day instead. That would cause the UnSub to change his plan and ditch the gun somewhere where he could retrieve it the following day which is not a lock. In addition, a changed plan might not have been conducive to allowing McCoy to be shot. If there's a mistrial you'd have no verdict. Another thing is on the day the verdict _was _read, how did the shooter know it would be read on that day and at that time?"

A look came over Hotch's face as a thought occurred to him. "Somebody tipped off the shooter."

"But how?" asked Rossi. "Jury members aren't allowed to talk to anybody before the verdict is read."

"I didn't say somebody _verbally_ tipped the shooter off," Hotch added.

"Then how…" Dave began but was interrupted by Hotch.

"I think the jury room may have been bugged. It's the only thing that makes sense. This way, the shooter knew when the jury had reached a decision. Then he somehow alerted the accomplice as to when to disrupt the video feed." He looked at Prentiss. "First thing tomorrow I want you and Detective Briscoe to check out the conference room in the courtroom where the jury had their deliberations."

Prentiss nodded. "Will do."

"In addition," said Rossi. "We still don't know why McCoy was the only one shot. Why were the lead prosecutors in all five shootings the only ones shot?"

"All of you are right," Hotch concurred as he mulled over in his mind what he'd been told. "But we still don't know why the shooter waited until the guilty verdict was read before he shot Jack. Nor have we ascertained whether this shooting is part of the conspiracy or is personal."

"Hey, man, did Baby Girl find anything yet on Simon Heffner or Doctor Christian Varick?" asked Morgan.

"Nothing yet. But she's still looking. She's also still searching the relatives of the officers that Jack convicted."

"Hotch, did the lab ever find out the name of the drug used to poison McCoy?"

"Yeah, they did, Reid. And you were right. It was Narcan."

"Hey, Hotch," JJ said. "Maybe we can find some answers after a closer look at these case files."

"Fine," the Unit Chief answered. "See you when you get back." He disconnected the call and put the cell back inside his jacket. He faced Prentiss. "I understand you and Detectives Briscoe and Curtis paid a visit to McCoy's apartment after you left the courthouse."

"We did. And the police were correct in that there were no signs of a break-in and no signs anybody was searching for anything. It appears the front door was left ajar to give the impression someone had broken in. There was also a message left on the answering machine. I suspect the caller might be trying to divert us from the truth. I also found something interesting that he was keeping hidden both from his boss and the police."

"You mean the threatening letter?"

"Yeah. Before I came here, I turned it over to Forensics hoping they'll find fingerprints on it, but I don't think they'll find any except his. Also, there's no envelope or any date on the letter so we have no idea when or from where it was sent. But the paper it was written on appeared a bit worn so it could have been sent a while ago."

Hotch crossed his arms across his chest. "You're probably right. I asked Schiff about it after you called, and he's as puzzled as we are. But while I was with him, Jack regained consciousness for a few seconds and could only say his name. I got the impression he was trying to say something. But he passed out again."

"What are you thinking, Aaron?" Rossi asked seeing the expression on Hotch's face.

"I think Jack may know, or at least have an idea who shot him and is trying to tell us. But until he wakes up for longer than a few seconds, we can't ask him."

"And until he does, we're on our own," added Emily.

Just then, their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Rossi immediately noticed that it was his, and removed the cell from his pocket. He checked the caller ID.

"I gotta take this," he announced and put the phone to his ear. "Rossi."

Everybody remained quiet so the senior agent could listen to the caller.

"You're sure," he said with an expression which gave nothing away. "Okay. I'll be sure to tell her as well. Thanks. Goodbye." He disconnected the call and put the cell away. Afterwards, he looked at the others. "That was Forensics."

"What'd they say?" asked Hotch noticing a troubled expression on his friend's face.

"We've got a problem. They were able to match the slug taken from McCoy to the slugs taken from the dead officer with the gun found in the flowerpot outside the courtroom. They were fired by the dead officer's gun, no question."

"I sense bad news," said Hotch.

"And you'd be correct. The four slugs found in the courtroom were also fired by a Glock 17, but not the same one. We have a second shooter."

"Two shooters?" asked Prentiss with wide eyes.

"What are you thinking?" asked the Unit Chief.

"I'm not sure," she began. "Except, we went into this believing there was a conspiracy to murder prosecutors after they secured convictions. Then because of a break-in of McCoy's apartment, we're led to believe his shooting was not part of a conspiracy, but is personal. Then now there's this news there's a second shooter."

"So you don't believe it's personal anymore?"

"No. I think the UnSub wants us to believe McCoy's shooting was personal as a way to throw us off the track. I believe we were right in our original thinking. Jack McCoy's shooting was and is part of a conspiracy to murder prosecuting attorneys."

Hotch sighed. "We rearranged our thinking once. We're going to have to rearrange it again."

"By the way, did Forensics give you a message for me as well?" Prentiss asked Rossi, hopeful.

"They did. And as you suspected, there were no prints present except McCoy's."

There was a moment of silence before anybody spoke.

"When I dropped off the letter to Forensics," said Emily. "I asked them to also have a handwriting analyst look at it. The wording on that letter was blocked, not scripted. I'm hoping a handwriting analyst might be able to give us a clue as to the writer."

"Good idea," Hotch agreed with the thinking.

"So what does all this tell us?" asked Rossi directing his question at nobody in particular.

"I suspect the sender of the letter and the caller might be one and the same," Emily hinted. "They could both be a means of forcing us in the wrong direction."

"But first we need to determine which direction is the correct one," Rossi pointed out.

"We also need to understand why with all the police officers in the courtroom at the time, there was no accurate description of the shooter," Prentiss added. "That has always bothered me and I know it does Morgan being a former cop."

With so much still on their plate, Hotch decided the time had come to eliminate the one problem that he felt was nothing more than a possible misunderstanding. He looked at his brunette female agent.

"Emily, before they left you, where did Briscoe and Curtis say they were going?" he asked.

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure. I think Briscoe said something about him and Curtis having a talk with Van Buren and then going home. Why?"

"Nothing important. I just need to speak with both Detectives Briscoe and Curtis before they leave and go home as I need to clarify something."

Removing his cell again, the Unit Chief dialed Van Buren's number and put the phone to his ear. "Lieutenant, its Agent Hotchner. Fine, thank you. And you? Good. Listen, I need some information. Are Detectives Briscoe and Curtis still there? They are? Good. Ask them to wait until I get there as I wish to speak with both of them for a few minutes." A tired smile graced Hotch's face. "No, they're not in any trouble. None at all. I promise. I just need to clarify something with them and its best I do it in person. I'll be there in a few minutes. Thank you. Goodbye."

He disconnected the call and looked at Emily and Rossi as he tucked the cell back inside his jacket. "If anybody wants me, I'll be in Lt. Van Buren's office with her and both detectives." He quickly left the conference room hoping resolve the nagging issue that was plaguing him from earlier.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

By the time Aaron Hotchner had returned to the conference room in the 27th Precinct, he noticed JJ, Morgan, and Reid had returned and were seated around the table. The letter Emily had found in McCoy's apartment, still in its evidence bag, was in the center of the table beside a small stack of case files which he believed came from the DA's office, and the ones 'borrowed' by JJ and Reid.

The Unit Chief let out a deep breath closing the door behind him.

"Everything all right?" Rossi asked seeing his friend's expression.

"Everything's fine," Hotch answered, but Rossi suspected this was not the case, and that Aaron was not telling the truth. But he'd get it out of him later when in private. The Unit Chief ran a hand over his dark hair. "Dave, did you update JJ, Morgan and Reid on what Forensics told you?"

"I was about to do that when you came in," the older man said.

Morgan looked back-and-forth between the two men. "Tell us what?" he asked curiously.

"Looks like we have a second shooter."

"How d'ya figure this?" he asked now staring at the senior agent.

"As you know, Emily, Detectives Briscoe and Curtis, and I searched the court for the other bullets mentioned by Abby Carmichael during her cognitive interview with you and me. After we found the slugs, I took them to Forensics and had a rush put on 'em. I heard from them a short while ago."

"And?" Morgan interjected. His gut was telling him he wasn't going to like where this was going to go.

Rossi sighed. "I was told the slug removed from McCoy, and three of the slugs found in the courtroom, were matched with the gun stolen from Officer Sampler. But the other two slugs, though fired from a Glock 17 were fired from a different gun."

"Are they sure?" asked JJ brushing back a strand of her long blonde hair behind her shoulder.

"They are."

"That sort of negates the idea that this shooting was personal," Reid interjected leaning back in his chair, crossing his long legs, and with elbows on the armrests, pyramided his fingertips together.

"I don't understand," JJ said.

Rossi went on to explain where the slugs had been found while searching the courtroom. "There's no way the UnSub who shot McCoy could get away without being caught by all the police who were seated in the gallery. He would've been stopped." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Besides the bullet that struck McCoy, the one that narrowly missed his head and ended up striking the front of the table, and the one that struck the back of the chair Miss Carmichael was seated in, were all fired by our shooter," he added sticking his hands in his pockets. "But the slug lodged in the top of the judge's bench, and the one that struck the railing behind the prosecutor's table, came from another gun."

"So we've gone from two UnSubs to three," Morgan commented dejectedly. "Damn!" he muttered under his breath.

"This plan is too intricate for it to be personal," Reid interjected. "The second shooter may have been a distraction."

"What are you getting at, Kid?"

"What I'm 'getting at' is that having a second shooter in the court is a clever way to divert attention from our UnSub. Think about it. My guess is our shooter might have had a silencer in order to muffle the shots when he fired his weapon at McCoy."

"But that would mean he would have to fire his weapon at the same exact time the second shooter fires his," Prentiss replied.

"Silencers are expensive," JJ said. "If he bought one, he could've bought it anywhere, and not necessarily in New York."

"He didn't necessarily have to buy one," added Reid. "He could've used a homemade one. They're easy to make. One that is small enough to be hidden beneath a coat carried by him into the courtroom."

"I think I see where you're going with this," Emily said. "By having a second shooter somewhere in the courtroom, the police in the gallery would be focused on him instead of the UnSub who actually shot McCoy."

"And it would also give our UnSub a chance to get away without anybody seeing him."

Hotch folded his arms across his chest. There was a pensive look on his face. "This level of involvement in the other shootings, and in Jack's, proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that his shooting is part of the same conspiracy."

"So you don't believe it's personal anymore?" asked Morgan.

"I was never certain that it was. No, like Emily pointed out, our UnSub wanted us to believe this shooting was personal as a way to throw us off track. We _originally_ believed there is a conspiracy to murder prosecutors after they secured convictions. Then Jack's apartment is broken into with nothing taken or ransacked, with only a threatening message left on his answering machine along with a threatening letter Emily found. _Everything_ was meant to have us believe this was personal. Now there's this news of a second gun. I believe we were right in our original thinking. Jack's shooting _was_ and _is_ part of a conspiracy to murder prosecuting attorneys."

He suddenly noticed the perturbed look on his genius's face. "What is it, Reid? What's bothering you?"

Reid's hazel eyes narrowed and he stared at a spot on the table. He spoke without actually looking at anybody.

"All these shootings occurred _after_ guilty verdicts were rendered at the end of the trials these attorneys handled. Why after a guilty verdict is read into the record?"

"We don't have a definite motive yet, Kid," Morgan chimed in glancing across the table at Reid.

"I think we do, though," Spencer slowly raised his eyes and stared in his boss's dark ones. "With any trial, getting a guilty verdict is what the injured party or the families of murder victims want. Even fellow officers, as in McCoy's case, wanted a guilty verdict and they got it. What if…what if a guilty verdict wasn't _suppose_ to be the end result?"

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "Exactly what are you saying, Reid?"

"What I'm saying is what if each prosecutor wasn't suppose to win his case and that's what got him shot?"

"Wait a moment," Morgan straightened in his chair. "Are you sayin' these lawyers didn't do their job by actually doin' their job?" He snorted and shook his head. "That makes no sense to me, Kid."

Hotch mulled things over. "If I understand you correctly, what you're saying is that each of our attorneys may have been shot because they won a case they weren't suppose to have won in the first place."

"Exactly," Reid added. "I know it sounds weird but…"

"No, no, no," Hotch pursed his lips. "It sounds as plausible as any motive we have right now. But as weird as it sounds, it could fit into the conspiracy theory."

But Morgan, still not convinced, stared at Hotch. "C'mon, man, you can't really buy into this theory of Reid's, can you? I mean, you use to be a lawyer. Lawyers getting shot because they won cases they weren't suppose to sounds weird, even to me."

Hotch sighed. "I remember having been a prosecutor, and as far as motives go, it does sound weird. Tell me, Morgan, do you have a better motive?"

"No, but even you gotta admit lawyers getting shot for doing their job is 'out there' even for Reid."

"Not when you look at it," the youngest agent added. "All I'm saying is what if these attorneys winning their cases didn't fit into our UnSub's plan? What if, in reality, they were suppose to _lose_ their cases? Stranger things have happened."

"Yeah but…"

"There's no but, Morgan," Reid, now excited became animated. "These lawyers all have two things in common. One, they are all lead prosecutors, and two, they all won their last cases. Nothing else makes sense."

Morgan felt his resolve beginning to weaken. He ran a hand over his bald dome. "I don't know, Kid."

"As strange as it may sound, for now we have to consider it as a motive," said Hotch.

"Okay," replied Morgan with a grim expression. He looked up at Hotch. "Then it raises a new problem and I'm afraid one you're not gonna like."

Hotch exhaled deeply. "I know what you're going to say, Derek. You're about to say that Malcolm and Estelle Herlihy may have been right about Jacob Herlihy being innocent."

Morgan's silence gave the Unit Chief his answer. With an exasperated sigh, he then picked up the note encased in its evidence bag, and let his eyes scan over the blocked wording. When finished his eyes fell on Emily.

"Did a handwriting analyst have any opinion?"

"Not really," she replied. "His name's Donald Reisner. He said because the lettering is blocked instead of scripted, it would make it hard to judge letter formation. And because the writing is shaky, he also couldn't tell if it was done to disguise the handwriting or whether it is his natural writing."

Hotch tossed the letter back on the table. "What do _you_ think?"

Prentiss let out a deep breath. "I think this was written and sent to McCoy as a ploy to convince the police and then us that his shooting was personal. I also think it was used to convince McCoy that it was personal. The break-in of his apartment, the message on his answering machine, and the threatening letter. It was all a ploy."

"So what do we do now?" asked JJ.

Hotch let out a deep breath. "We dismiss everything that led us to believe Jack's shooting might be personal. Then we go solely on the theory that this shooting is part of the conspiracy and nothing else." He looked at his bald agent. "Morgan, first thing tomorrow I want you to pay a visit to the 18th Precinct and speak with several of the officers who attended the trial."

"What makes you think they're gonna talk to me?"

"You're a former cop, and you speak their language. You might be able to get them to open up where the rest of us can't."

Morgan shrugged. "Might be worth a shot. But they still might not be able to offer anything on the shooter."

"_That's_ before we discovered there was a second shooter. Let's see if they remember a _second_ shooter." He glanced at the blonde. "JJ, I got the name of the nurse who gave that poisoned IV to Jack from Doctor Smythe. Her name's Sally Driscoll. I need you to find out if she noticed the IV she gave Jack had been tampered with before she gave it to him." He then looked between his best friend and his youngest. "Dave, I need you and Reid to go through these cases JJ and Reid borrowed from the DA's office. See if you can pinpoint anybody who might fit into our conspiracy. And Prentiss and Detective Briscoe are going to check out the jury room for bugs."

Rossi glanced at Hotch. "And what about you, Aaron? What are you gonna be doing?"

"I'm going to have another talk with Detective Curtis."

"Why?" asked the senior agent. "I thought you said there was no problem."

"And there isn't. I just need to ask a few more questions about something. Nothing serious."

_Again with another lie. Aaron, trust me, not only are we gonna talk when we're alone, but you're gonna tell me the truth as to what's going on between you and Detective Curtis! _ Rossi looked into his best friend's eyes and Hotch saw in them that he'd have to give a more truthful answer than the one he was giving to the team.

Just then Hotch heard his cellphone ring. He removed it from inside his jacket and looked at the Caller ID. He put the phone on speaker.

"What have you got, Garcia?" he asked as the room quieted down.

"Mon Capitan, you asked for me to contact you once I had something no matter how small. Well, your wish is my command. I found Doctor Varick."

Morgan perked up. "Where is he, Baby Girl?"

"I located him in Massachusetts, Oh Chocolate Eye Candy of mine. Boston to be more exact."

"How long has he been there?" asked Hotch.

"He's serving a jail sentence of two-and-a-half years for sending dozens of text messages. He has six more months to go."

Everybody looked puzzled. "Two-and-a-half years for sending text messages?" Hotch asked, figuring there had to be more to this story.

"Yes, sir. Only the text messages he sent were to a suicidal eighteen-year-old relative urging him to commit suicide which said relative later did using carbon dioxide. My brilliant multitasking efforts show he was there the entire time those lawyers were shot. I am, however, still looking for Heffner." (1)

"And the cops McCoy indicted? You told me earlier you were searching their family members."

"Yes, sir. And there is nothing. None of those guilty men in blue have any family members who have sought or are seeking revenge against McCoy. It appears the blue wall is as impenetrable as ever."

"Okay," said Hotch. "Garcia, while you're doing that, I have another task for you."

"Lay it on me, Oh Dimpled Boss of Mine with the great hair."

"I want you to check the cases of Sandor O'Brien, Jonathan Bratwaite, Bennett Chase, and Bryan Loggins."

"Those are the dead attorneys, aren't they?" she asked.

"They are."

"And what am I looking for, sir?"

"I want you to check the last case each one won a conviction for in court after which they were shot."

"Am I looking for anything in particular?"

"I want you to find anything that would indicate how they won their cases. In other words, did the case appear to have been lost, and then evidence was presented which allowed them to win."

"Your Technical Goddess will do her best, sir."

"Thanks, Garcia. Call me again when you find something."

"I aim to please, my liege," the tech analyst replied before disconnecting the call. Hotch then put the cell back in his jacket and looked at his team.

"That eliminates Varick," he said grimly. "He was in prison at the time of the shootings and there's no way he was responsible. That leaves Heffner as our only viable suspect for now." He then looked at his brunette agent. "Emily, while you and Detective Briscoe are searching the jury room, I want you to find out from him about his testimony at Jack's trial."

Prentiss's eyebrows arched upward and disappeared into her bangs. "You suspect something?"

"Not at all. In fact, in all five cases, I expect there should be nothing that could be called into question, and that those convictions were valid. It's just that if we go by Reid's theory of lawyers winning cases they weren't suppose to win, then we have to look at the evidence that got Jack his conviction against Jacob Herlihy as well as the others. I'll check with Curtis when I speak with him."

* * *

(1) Based on a true story in 1977 in which a teenage girl in Massachusetts sent numerous text messages to an eighteen-year-old relative urging him to commit suicide. He did so using carbon monoxide. The teenage girl was sentenced to two-and-a-half years for her part in the death.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

After the team had left the police station, they all went to dinner at a local restaurant before returning to their hotel. It was while in the lobby, that Hotch suggested everyone get a good night's sleep as the following day they had a lot to do before they would be able to later give the profile to law enforcement.

Now back in their hotel suite, Rossi headed straight to the liquor cabinet on which sat a sterling silver tray holding four individual bottles each containing a different liquor: Scotch, Vodka, Bourbon and Gin along with six tumblers. He picked up the Scotch bottle and poured two fingers worth into two Tumblers. Picking them up, he turned and walked over to the Unit Chief who had loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt before he sat on the edge of his own bed. He removed his dress shoes then stretched out on his bed. He adjusted the pillows behind his head so he could sit up comfortably. There was an open folder in his lap.

"Here," Rossi said handing his friend a Tumbler before he himself sat down on the edge of his own bed facing Aaron. He took a sip of his own Scotch. "Nothing like a drink before bed. And since neither of us seem to be in a hurry to go to bed, having a drink should give us a little time to talk."

Hotch took a sip of Scotch and enjoyed the burn as it slid down his throat. He knew what was coming. "Time to talk about what?" he asked feigning innocence.

"Come off it, Aaron. That Texas Two-Step might work with the others, but not with me. I know you too well. Now out with it. What's going on between you and Detective Curtis?" He took a larger gulp of his drink.

Hotch sighed then smirked. "You are a real pain in my ass sometimes, Dave."

Rossi chuckled. "It's part of my Italian charm. Now out with it."

"Fine."

Hotch proceeded to tell Rossi about his needing clarification of Detective Curtis's feelings toward Jack McCoy in the aftermath of one of the detectives' cases and the prosecutor's role in it. He made sure to also include he did not suspect Curtis of being involved in the shooting in any way.

* * *

Adam Schiff, slouched in the hard plastic chair, was startled awake by something. Not realizing he had dozed off, he proceeded to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger of one hand. When he raised his head, he noticed the darkness outside the window and realized it was night. Wondering what time it was, he checked his watch, and was surprised to find it only seven-thirty. He straightened up in his chair. What had awakened him? Looking at the man in the bed, he inhaled sharply at what he saw.

Jack McCoy was staring at him almost as if he had been watching him the entire time.

"Jack, are you all right?" He leaned closer. Getting no reaction, he started to reach for the patient buzzer, but saw the ADA slowly shake his head negatively. He warily lay the buzzer on the edge of the bed near Jack's head, but made sure it was within reach should he need it.

He then spotted what looked possibly like a grin on the ADA's face hidden behind the plastic breathing mask. Taking a gamble, Schiff moved the mask aside and smiled himself when he noticed his ADA actually smiling back at him. He also noticed Jack's eyes were fully open this time as well.

"Good to see you. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"No…" the ADA said in a barely audible whisper.

"Should I get the doctor?" Schiff reached for the buzzer again but was stopped.

"Adam…go…home." It was apparent McCoy was struggling to get understandable words out. "Go…home…please."

"Not on your life, my friend. I'm afraid you're stuck with me because I'm not going anywhere. At least not until you walk out of here on your own."

Jack didn't reply verbally. Instead, he gathered up enough strength for one last action. He slid the arm closest to his boss across the bed slowly, until he was able to place his hand on Adam's wrist. Schiff looked down and felt tears begin to fill his eyes and threaten to spill over. But he didn't bother to wipe them away. Instead, he smiled at his friend, using his other hand to gently stroke McCoy's hair.

"Hotch is still here with his team. They're helping the police find out who shot you."

Jack paused momentarily. "Still par…lyzd?" He managed to then swallow the lump in his throat.

"Yes, you're still paralyzed, I'm afraid. But it won't be forever. The doctor assures me you're improving every day." Schiff prayed what he had just said wasn't a lie. He knew it would destroy McCoy if he discovered the man he thought of as a father had lied to him. But right now, he felt he needed to give Jack something to hang onto if only for the man's own piece-of-mind.

Jack inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving Schiff. He appeared to be almost pleading. "Hel...lp…me."

"Tell me how, Jack. How can I help you?"

"Shoo…ter…front…"

"Do you remember the shooter?"

"Shoo...ter...front."

Noticing Jack was beginning to have difficulty breathing without help, Schiff replaced the mask over his nose and mouth. It was also apparent to him that the ADA was quickly using up all the energy he had at the moment.

"I'll let Hotch know about this. I promise." Adam exhaled deeply. "But for now, try and get some rest. You've earned it, my friend. Now close your eyes and get some sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up again."

Schiff felt a slight squeeze of the hand on his wrist as McCoy closed his eyes. Leaning back in the chair, Adam knew he had a tough decision to make. To either stay here with his friend, or chance leaving the room and make a phone call to Agent Hotchner and report what he had learned.

Seeing Jack's eyes close, and assuming he was now sleeping peacefully, and as quietly as he could, Schiff got out of his chair and walked to the door of the room. With a glance back at his friend, he quietly opened the door, slipped out into the hall, and closed the door. He glanced at the FBI agents standing guard. The men knew who Schiff was.

"Be alert," he told them in a civil but firm tone. "I need to use the telephone at the nurses' station, and have to leave Mr. McCoy alone for a few minutes. But I'll be back as soon-as-I-can." Then with a nod, Schiff tiredly trudged down the hall in the direction of the nurses' station.

* * *

"And that's everything, Aaron?" Rossi asked after Hotch had told him about his conversation with Rey Curtis. "Any way this detective have anything to do with McCoy's shooting?"

"None," replied Hotch. "As I told the team, I just needed clarification on a few things, nothing else. I swear."

"Then that's a good thing." Rossi drained his glass and, after noticing his friend's glass was empty as well, started to his feet. "You want another?"

"Sure, why not." Hotch handed Rossi his glass for a refill. As Rossi walked back to the liquor cabinet, Hotch's cell phone rang. The Unit Chief picked up the cell and after checking the caller ID, pressed a button and put the phone to his ear. "Adam, what's wrong? Is it Jack?"

The Unit Chief listened carefully to everything the DA said. He glanced at Rossi who was now standing beside the bed holding the Tumblers, listening. The older man handed one to Hotch before taking a sip of his own.

"Sounds like Jack is not only fighting to come back, but is trying to form actual words and tell us what he knows," Hotch remarked before taking a sip of his own drink. "We no longer think his shooting is personal either, but part of the conspiracy, and that's the theory we're going on. We also suspect there are two shooters involved. We'll keep you informed throughout our investigation. Please give him my best. Thanks. Have a good night. Goodbye." Hotch disconnected the call and sat his cell on the night table between the two beds. He then took another sip of Scotch before looking at Rossi who sat on the edge of his own bed, waiting.

"I assume from what little I could hear that Mr. McCoy is still with us."

"He is," Aaron replied. He went on to explain what Schiff had told him then took another drink from his glass.

"You think his memories of what happened are coming back to him in bits and pieces?"

Hotch sighed tiredly. "I do. But regardless, I still think despite his lack of memories right now that we're on the right track." Downing the remainder of his drink, he sat his glass on the night table near the desk phone. He closed the file in his lap, and put that on the night table as well. "I think I'm going to turn in. I need some sleep." He stifled a yawn. "I'll see you in the morning, Dave. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Aaron." The older man downed the remainder of his own drink before he too, turned off the lamp on the night table, lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes thus allowing darkness to overtake him.

* * *

Schiff ran a hand down his haggard face as he trudged back in the direction of McCoy's hospital room. He nodded at the agents outside the room.

"Everything's been quiet, Mr. Schiff," one agent said. "Nobody's come in since you left a few minutes ago."

Schiff stood with hands stuffed inside his pants pockets. Even to the agents the District Attorney looked exhausted.

"That's good to hear," he said before he quietly opened the door and walked inside, then just as quietly closed it behind him. For a few moments, he stood just inside the room and stared at his friend. With a weary sigh, he walked closer and sat back down. He rested one elbow on an armrest, massaged his chin with a forefinger, and continued to stare at McCoy while letting out a deep breath.

"I talked to Hotch a few minutes ago and told him what you had said. He told me they believe there are maybe two shooters instead of one. He also said they no longer believe this was personal but part of a conspiracy. Now I know you don't know this, but four other attorneys were shot and killed in three years. You're the fifth one shot and fortunately, you survived."

He paused for several minutes before continuing. "Then he told me something I didn't know; something one of his teammates, a Doctor Reid, figured out. You'd like him even though he might drive you crazy. I understand the kid's a stickler for statistics. Anyway, he figured out it's possible that the other attorneys who were killed, plus your shooting, are connected to the last cases in which each of you won convictions. In your case, that would be Jacob Herlihy."

He again paused as he knew what he said next would be difficult for Jack to hear. "Doctor Reid surmises that these convictions shouldn't have been won by the lawyers trying them, including yours. According to Hotch, it's the only theory that makes sense to him and his team. Now I'm not telling you this to upset you. He _assures_ me they are, in no way, accusing you of any wrongdoing. They are just looking at everything and dismissing nothing." Schiff chuckled. "You know, I can see why you like this Agent Hotchner. He's a lot like you. If he was still a federal prosecutor, I'd try and steal him away from the Feds and get him on my staff. Then I'd have two of you."

Although McCoy appeared to be sleeping soundly, his mind was a jumble of confused images and thoughts.

_He recalled packing papers into his briefcase after the guilty verdict had been read. It was then he spotted him. A man. An unfamiliar man who appeared in the front of the courtroom somehow. He didn't see from where he had entered. All he knew was he caught his presence out of the corner of his eye as he was packing up to leave with Abby, Briscoe, and Curtis. If he could only remember from where he came._

_He did, however, remember the man pointing something in his direction. If he could only recall what that something was. And while he couldn't remember what was being aimed at him, he did remember the sudden explosion of pain. But if this man appeared in the front of the courtroom, why did he experience such pain in his back before his legs gave out. How could this be?_

_Why couldn't he remember? Why? He could remember certain things but not this. It was as if his mind was a huge jigsaw puzzle and some integral pieces were missing._

_But if he was completely honest with himself right now, he could only remember pieces of what happened. Would it always be this way? Or would he recover his memories of what happened?_

_So four other lawyers were shot and killed. Isn't that what Adam had said? And for some reason he survived being shot. Why? Why was he allowed to live while four others died? Why was he so deserving?  
_

He hadn't really been sleeping, but had simply closed his eyes to rest them for a while. He hadn't meant to scare Adam by any means, and was sorry if he had. Opening his eyes again, he noticed Schiff with eyes closed, slouched in the hard chair. He heard a gentle snoring, and sensed the man might be sleeping as he had to be exhausted.

A smile came to his face. Though in his seventies; Schiff was by no means a young man. Yet he was determined to stay with him until he was able to leave the hospital. And he would always love Adam for it. It was then that a scary thought came to mind.

_I'm still paralyzed. Paralyzed! How long until I get back the use of my legs? Would I ever get them back? Would I ever be the man I use to be without my legs? And why would Adam_ _even still want me working for him? He must feel sorry for me. That's got to be it. That has to be it!_

Suddenly the soft light from the hallway shone on his face as the door opened and a figure momentarily stood in the doorway before stepping inside the room, allowing the door to close. He could tell it was a man wearing a long white doctor's coat. Jack felt himself becoming nervous as he hadn't ever seen this man before. The man came closer, glanced at Schiff, and determined he was asleep in the chair. With his eyes still on McCoy, he spotted the fear in the ADA's eyes as the two men stared at each other.

He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The man in the long white coat, eyes still on Jack, reached into his coat pocket and removed the contents. Then he placed his other hand on Schiff's shoulder and gently shook it, awakening the man with a start. The older man looked up at the visitor through tired eyes.

"Doctor Asperger," Adam said running both hands up and down his face a few times, hoping to wake himself up further. He quickly glanced at McCoy and spotted the fear in the man's eyes. Standing up slowly, he patted the injured man's shoulder. "It's okay, Jack. This is Doctor Asperger. I know you don't know him, but he replaces Doctor Smythe in the evening after he goes home." The fear in Jack's eyes began to slowly diminish once he heard those words. Then he noticed what the doctor had removed from his coat pocket was his stethoscope. The remainder of his fear evaporated and he began to relax.

Asperger seemed embarrassed. "Sorry if I startled either of you. But I promised Doctor Smythe I would check on Mr. McCoy after he left for the day." He put the earplugs of his stethoscope into his ears and gripped the oval disk on the other end in one hand. With the other, he pulled back the top blanket covering the patient before reaching behind McCoy, undo the straps of his gown, and lowered it midway. He placed the round disk on Jack's chest and listened carefully to his heartbeat. Once done, he removed the earplugs and stuck the stethoscope back in his coat pocket. He then pulled up the gown and retied the straps behind Jack's head before pulling the blanket back up again.

He next reached into his breast pocket and removed a penlight. "I'm going to check your eyes now for reaction to light. I'm not going to hurt you."

The doctor bent over, and lifting one eyelid at a time, flashed his penlight into each eye. He showed no emotion despite seeing each pupil react to the light. Straightening up, he tucked the penlight back into his breast pocket. He then removed a small pinprick device. Gripping the bottom of the blanket, he threw it back exposing McCoy's legs. He gently pricked several places in both lower legs careful to not break the skin, while both he and Schiff watched for any reaction.

Asperger's face remained impassive even when he noticed a slight twitch of the toes on both feet when the sharp tip made contact with the skin in one particular location of both legs.

Straightening, the doctor pulled the blanket back over the legs covering them again, and returned the pin to his breast pocket. Then he turned and faced Schiff, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How is he?" Schiff asked.

"He seems to be doing well," Asperger explained. "His heart sounds good and his pupils react to light, so that's a plus in his favor. But what I'm most pleased to see and I know Doctor Smythe will be as well when I tell him, is there was a slight reaction to pain stimulus. I'll schedule several tests for tomorrow so we can check his breathing, his injuries to see how well he's healing, and how much more the swelling in his back may have gone down since last time. I'll also leave word for Doctor Smythe so he'll know." He glanced over his shoulder at the patient who eyes were watching him closely. "Mr. McCoy seems to be a strong man with an incredible will to live."

"That he is and that he does," Schiff replied with a smile of his own as he stuffed both hands into his pants pockets. Seeing the slight twitch of Jack's toes gave him hope that the ADA would walk again. He suspected Jack was ecstatic as well hearing this news.

Asperger turned his attention to the older man. "Mr. Schiff, I respect you wanting to be here for your friend, but you look exhausted. I recommend you go home and get some rest before you collapse."

Schiff smirked. "I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but I'm fine. Also, I'm not leaving here until Jack is able to leave here as well."

The doctor sadly shook his head. "I strongly suggest you reconsider. Don't force me to make it an order."

The DA crossed his arms across his chest showing he wasn't budging. He stared at the doctor. "Then that's what you're going to have to do because I'm staying. Jack needs somebody he knows to be here for him. Also, _I_ need to be here for him. Can you understand what I'm saying?"

Asperger was sympathetic. "I do understand." He let out a deep breath through his nose. "Just promise me you'll try and get some rest yourself. Because friend or no friend, if I see any sign you are overexerting yourself, I will not hesitate having you admitted for your own good. I'll also leave the same information for Doctor Smythe. Do _you_ understand what I'm saying?"

"I do."

"As long as we understand each other." He glanced back at McCoy. "I'll leave you alone so both of you can get some rest while I write up the orders for those tests." With a smile, the doctor turned, walked away, and exited the room leaving the two men alone.

Schiff returned to his hard chair, returned Jack's stare and smiled. "Sounds like you're on the mend, my friend."

McCoy reached up and moved the plastic breathing mask aside. "Go home…Adam…need rest. Go…home. I'll be…kay."

"I know you'll be okay, so don't you worry about me." He chuckled. "Just worry about getting well. You heard the doctor. You're doing better, and let's keep it that way."

"Need…fa...vor."

Schiff leaned closer. "What is it?"

"Want…to see…Ah…run."

The DA nodded. "I'll call him in the morning and ask him to stop by. Will that be all right?"

Jack swallowed and nodded slowly. "Want to…talk…to…him." Breathing became difficult so he replaced the mask and took a deep breath. To Schiff, McCoy appeared exhausted due to all the effort he was putting into trying to communicate with him.

Once Jack closed his eyes and looked peaceful at last, Adam settled back in his chair, clasped both hands together in his lap, and closed his eyes hoping he could get a little sleep. He knew he had a busy day ahead of him.

* * *

Morning came too soon for members of the BAU. Following breakfast, the agents dispersed to carry out their individual assignments given to them the day before.

JJ, having gotten Sally Driscoll's address from Hotch before the team went to dinner the night before, pulled up outside the woman's small red brick house. As she turned off the engine of her SUV, she remained behind the wheel studying the front of the house. Something didn't seem right to her. Her suspicion was because the curtains in the two windows facing the street were drawn shut prohibiting anybody outside from seeing inside. And there was no movement of those curtains indicating somebody inside was trying to see out. From what JJ could tell, the house looked abandoned.

Exiting her vehicle, the blonde climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. She rang the bell again, and again no answer. Taking a step back, she studied the windows hoping to see _some_ movement of the curtains to indicate someone was inside and maybe just not answering the doorbell. She stepped forward again and this time knocked on the door.

"Miss Driscoll? FBI," JJ called out. "Please open the door. I need to speak with you."

Her knocking was met with silence.

JJ knocked again, loudly this time with no response. She gripped the doorknob and to her surprise, the door proved to be unlocked and opened easily. Opening the door a bit further, she stepped inside. "Miss Driscoll? FBI. I'm coming in." Stepping further into the living room, she pulled out her service weapon and held it in front of her, finger on the trigger, ready to fire if necessary. She warily walked further into the room slowly while keeping alert for any sudden movement. "Miss Driscoll?" she called out again. She was again met with silence.

As her blue eyes scanned the remainder of the living room, she found nothing. She then entered the occupant's bedroom and paused in the doorway. There in the bed was a figure buried beneath a jumbled bedspread. Cautiously advancing toward the bed, she kept her gun pointed at the hidden figure not knowing what to expect.

"Miss Driscoll?"

When the figure did not move, JJ stepped closer, and gently shook the figure's shoulder. "Miss Driscoll? She shook the shoulder more roughly. _Miss Driscoll?!"_

Getting no answer, the blonde threw back the bedspread to reveal a body she recognized from a photo sent by Garcia as that of Sally Driscoll.

"_Damn!"_ she muttered under her breath. She placed two fingers against the woman's throat and found there was no pulse and her body was cold to the touch.

The blonde quickly cleared the remainder of the residence before returning to the bed room. Holstering her weapon, she noticed two things on the night table both in plain view. The first being an empty pill bottle on its side next to a nearly empty glass of water. Donning a pair of Latex gloves she had in her pocket, she picked up the pill bottle and found it was from a doctor and prescribed for Sally Driscoll. It was for an antidepressant. The second was a handwritten note. She picked up the note and read it. It was short and to the point.

'_I didn't mean to tamper with the IV, but he made me. He threatened me. I didn't want to __do it, but he said Jack McCoy had to die! I am sorry about the poisoning. Please forgive me.'_

Letting out a deep breath, JJ took out her cellphone, and pressed the button for the first number on her list of contacts. She put the phone to her ear and let it ring which it only did twice.

"Hotch? JJ. I'm at Sally Driscoll's home. She's dead and appears to have been so for a while as her body's cold. It appears she took an overdose of an antidepressant called Celexa. I also found a handwritten suicide note in which she says she's sorry for tampering with the IV that poisoned Jack McCoy. She claims she didn't want to do it but he made her. No, she doesn't say or indicate who he is. Okay, I'll wait here for CSU. Bye." She disconnected her call and let out a deep breath.

* * *

"Sorry about that, Detective," Hotch replied with a smile as he put his phone back in his jacket before facing Rey Curtis again. The two men were seated in Lt. Van Buren's office which the female officer again allowed them to use. Hotch had noticed that the young detective seemed calmer than the day before, and suspected that Curtis's senior partner had talked to him. "Now, you were about to say something to me?"

Curtis moistened his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah. I was about to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. I shouldn't have lost my temper like I did."

"Nothing to apologize for," Hotch said calmly. "I can understand your reaction. And again I'm sorry if I misled you into thinking I considered you a suspect in McCoy's shooting."

Curtis swallowed the building lump in his throat. "That's nice of you, Agent Hotchner, but your apology isn't necessary. I was the one who lost it." He let out a deep breath. "Lennie wasn't very happy with me when he caught up with me later. He sat me down and we uh…we talked for several hours. He pointed out that I had made no secret of disagreeing with McCoy about the Henry Harp case but that I never bothered to see things as McCoy saw them."

"And now you do?"

"He pointed out that if McCoy hadn't accepted Harp's plea deal, the guy might've walked on everything. But because he accepted it, he could use it against Harp in court. So in a round-about way, Harp went to prison for killing a cop his partner actually killed by killing the cop killer."

"So you're no longer upset with Jack?"

Curtis shook his head. "I guess I never was really. I just let my temper get the better of me. Anyway, I apologize and it won't happen again. You have my word." He took another deep breath. "If you allow me, I still want to help find out who shot McCoy. Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes. I sent Agent Jareau to question a Sally Driscoll who was the nurse who gave Jack the poisoned IV for his pneumonia."

"Was?"

"Yes. She was found dead of an apparent suicide in her home. I have a CSU unit on the way. She left a suicide note stating 'he' forced her to tamper with the IV in order to poison McCoy and hopefully kill him. I'd like for you to join her there and see if the two of you can find anything as to who the 'he' is that Miss Driscoll referred to in her suicide note." He provided Curtis with the address.

"What about Lennie?" he asked. "Shouldn't he join us?"

"Detective Briscoe is working with Agent Prentiss regarding another matter."

Curtis nodded, got to his feet, and exited from the office.

Hotch started to get to his feet when he heard his cell ring again. He pulled out the phone and checked the caller ID. With eyes narrowed, he put the cell to his ear.

"Adam? Has something happened to Jack? Why aren't you with him?"

"He's undergoing tests right now. It seems he might be regaining some feeling in his legs."

"That's wonderful!"

"I agree. The doctor who relieves Smythe in the evening performed a pinprick test on both legs and his toes twitched on each foot. He also checked his eyes and there was a reaction to the light. He recommended tests be performed to check on how well Jack's healing, his breathing, and if the swelling has gone down more in his lower back."

"I'm not a doctor, but there must be some improvement if his toes twitched. Of course, any improvement will be confirmed by the tests. But it does sound promising," said Hotch.

"He's fighting to say actual words but as yet can't form actual sentences. Also, his eyes were fully open yesterday when he woke up," Schiff continued.

Hope sprang eternal in Hotch's chest upon hearing this news about his friend. "Sounds promising. Did he say or remember anything useful?"

"Nothing. He'll be undergoing testing for several hours, but he wants to talk to you. Do you think you can find time to visit? I got the impression it's important."

Hotch checked his watch. "Of course. Does this evening sound all right? He should be done with his tests before then."

"That fine. I'll be sure to let him know to expect you." He paused. "Hotch, have you found out anything new in your investigation so far?"

Hotch sighed. "Only that the nurse who delivered the poisoned IV to Jack is dead. Possible suicide."

"My God." He paused. "What does her death mean to your investigation?"

"We don't know yet exactly. It's just another piece of the puzzle right now."

"What aren't you telling me?" Schiff suspected the agent was holding something back.

There was a long pause before the Unit Chief spoke again. "Right now you know the same things we know. And as far as something new, all I can tell you is that there are other things we've found out that I cannot discuss right now until we check out a few more things. Once we do, you will be told everything. I promise."

"I understand. You do what you have to do. I'd better take a break while Jack's undergoing his tests. His doctor's after me for overdoing it by refusing to go home and get some rest. But I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I'm not leaving here until Jack does. I don't care how exhausted I am. Miss Carmichael is quite capable of handling things while I'm out of the office."

Hotch felt for the older man and could appreciate his relationship with the ADA. "I understand, Adam, I really do. But this is the reason you wanted federal agents to guard Jack instead of uniforms. It was so you _could_ go home and get some rest without having to worry that uniforms were responsible. This is why I replaced them with agents so you would be able to get that rest without worrying."

"I know, and I appreciate what you did. But I feel I _need_ to be here. Jack needs somebody he _knows_ and _trusts_ to be here for him. Don't ask me to leave him now."

"I won't, all right. All I ask is that you take care of you. You won't be any good to Jack or anybody if you're hospitalized also. All I ask is for you to not overdo it."

"I'll be careful. I promise. Anything else?"

"Yes. When we're ready to deliver the profile, I would like you and Abby Carmichael to be present. This way you'll both know everything."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Emily Prentiss and Lennie Briscoe, once arriving at the courthouse, immediately went to the room used by the jurors in their deliberations. Briscoe blew out a deep breath.

"So your boss thinks the jury room was bugged?" he asked placing his hands on hips as his eyes scanned the room.

"That's the theory," Emily replied as she ran her hand just under the top edge of the table. "It's the only thing that makes sense considering there were two shooters."

The detective's eyebrows arched upward. "_Two_ shooters? How the hell did you come up with that if I may ask?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense. One shooter becomes aware of the verdict, and alerts the second shooter. It's our contention that both shooters fired their weapons at the same time with the one who shot McCoy using a silencer."

"And you think one shooter became aware of the verdict by overhearing it via a bug planted in the jury room."

"You got it, Detective."

Briscoe shook his head as he got down on one knee and began to look and check the underside of the table on his side while Emily, getting down on both knees, crawled under the table on her side. She ran her hand along the smooth surface, her fingers feeling every inch of the wood.

"Find anything yet?" the detective asked as he continued his perusal of the wood. He admitted to himself it had never occurred to him that a listening device might have been involved in the shooting, but he knew nothing could be dismissed. And if the agents suspected the shooter might have had electronic assistance to carry out the attempted murder of Jack McCoy, he was willing to help in any way possible.

"Nothing yet," Prentiss replied as she continued feeling the wood near the top of the front leg closest to her. Then she felt it. "Got something!" she suddenly called out. Getting to her feet, she held out her hand revealing a small device in the middle of her palm.

Briscoe carefully picked up the small device and examined it closely. "Looks like you were right. Our shooter overheard the jury reaching a guilty verdict and to get ready." He dropped the bug back in her palm. "But there's still one thing I'm not clear about."

"What's that?"

"The counselor was shot in the back. Now, going on the assumption there were two shooters, I figure one shooter must have been in the front of the courtroom, and the other in the back somewhere _behind_ the counselor. Might that be the reason the cops in the gallery couldn't accurately describe him?"

"Detective…"

"Lennie," Briscoe said with a charming smile. He found the brunette a stunningly beautiful woman, just like the blonde. He began to wonder if Penelope Garcia looked as good as these two women.

Emily smiled. "Lennie, we believe the cops in the gallery were focused on the shooter in the front of the courtroom which is why the second shooter was able to get away unnoticed. We assume this was part of our UnSub's plan."

"UnSub?"

"It's short for unknown subject."

"Learned something new today," he joked. He crossed his arms. "So what now? Back to the precinct?"

Prentiss removed an evidence bag from her pocket and dropped the listening device inside. Sealing the bag, she tucked it inside her jacket pocket. Then she looked at Briscoe.

"I have an idea as to how the second shooter got into the courtroom without being noticed," she said. "But I'd like to be certain before heading back." She exited the jury room with Briscoe behind her.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," came the reply.

Briscoe grinned as he followed the female agent. His eyes roamed over her body from behind. He had to admit Emily Prentiss looked as good going as she did coming.

* * *

Reid, leaning back in his chair, rested both hands, palms downward, on top of his head. He let out a deep breath.

"Tired, Kid?" asked Rossi closing the last folder in front of him. He and Reid had just finished reviewing the folders the Reid and JJ had brought back with them to the police precinct.

"Not really," the young genius replied. "It's just discovering that none of the people in these files are responsible for shooting Jack McCoy."

"I know what you mean. I feel like we wasted our time."

"That's not what I mean," Reid said, straightening up in his chair. "I just mean it seems our time could have been better spent if we could have been able to pinpoint one of these people as our UnSub. Instead, all we did was eliminate each of them."

But before Rossi could respond, the door to the conference room opened and Hotch walked in and closed the door. He paused when he noticed the expressions on the faces of his two agents.

"What's wrong?" he asked looking between them, and finally at his best friend. "Dave?"

The senior agent leaned against the back of his chair and let out a deep breath. He looked up at his best friend. "Bad news, Aaron," he said grimly. "We've eliminated everybody in these files."

Hotch's eyebrows arched upward as his eyes widened. _"All_ of them?"

"Every single one of them," Reid chimed in sadly. "We might as well return these files to the DA's office."

Rossi smiled. "I'll take them, Aaron. No problem."

The Unit Chief knew Rossi had only volunteered so he could see Abby Carmichael again. "Be sure to let Miss Carmichael know we've eliminated the people in these files. That should ease her mind," he said with a sly smile of his own.

Dave grinned mischievously. "I'll be sure to tell her." He suspected Hotch had figured out the truth.

Just then, Hotch heard the muffled ringing of his cell. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his phone and checked the caller ID. He put his phone on speaker.

"Go ahead, Garcia," he said. "Reid and Rossi are with me."

"Mon Capitan, you asked me to call after I had checked out the last cases won by our four deceased legal eagles."

"And what did you find?" the Unit Chief inquired. He didn't tell his tech analyst he already had an idea forming in his mind.

"Well, sir, it seems all four attorneys were destined to lose their respective trials when each got a lucky break."

"Let me guess, Penelope," said the Unit Chief. "A witness showed up out of the blue to cement a conviction for each one."

"You sure you weren't there?" Garcia joked. When she got no response, she continued. "You are absolutely correct, sir. In each case a witness came forward and pulled the lawyers' pecans from the fire. In other words, to pull victory from the jaws of defeat. To save…"

"We get the picture, Garcia," Hotch interjected stopping her rant.

"Sorry, sir."

"What cases were each trying at the time of their deaths, Kitten?" asked Rossi wanting to ease the tension.

"Glad you asked me, Oh Bearded One. Seems Sandor O'Brien was trying a drug case involving a major dealer who killed a cop who was undercover. Jonathan Bratwaite was prosecuting a suspect who was accused of assaulting a teenage girl driver before stealing her car. Bennett Chase was trying a suspect on an attempted murder charge. And Bryan Loggins was trying a child abuse case."

Rossi noticed the change of expression on his supervisor's face during hearing what Garcia was saying.

"What is it, Aaron? What's troubling you about all this?"

Hotch shook his head sadly. "Each lawyer was losing his case when witnesses show up out of the blue and save their asses."

"Coincidence?" asked Reid.

"I somehow doubt it, Kid," Rossi answered. "What do you think, Hotch?"

Aaron blew out a deep breath through his nose. He didn't like where his theory was heading.

"I was thinking more along the lines of them suborning perjury in order to win their cases."

"Perjury?" asked a stunned Garcia. "Sir, does that mean that Mr. McCoy…"

"Absolutely not, Penelope!" Hotch raised his voice. "Jack is the most honest man I ever knew!"

"I…I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to…"

Hotch sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you. You merely asked a question."

But Penelope still felt guilty. "But still…"

"Forget it, Penelope."

But Rossi refused to be put off. "Aaron, I know how you feel about McCoy, but we don't know him like you do. Surely you can see why we have questions."

"Yes, I can, Dave. So I'll say this just one more time. Jack McCoy would _never_ suborn perjury against Jacob Herlihy or anybody else for that matter. It's true I haven't known Jack that long, but I know the _type_ of prosecutor he is. He is the most ethical man I know. And believe me when I tell you that I stake _my_ reputation on that assumption."

"I believe you, sir," said Garcia. If Hotch swore McCoy was a good and decent person then that was good enough for her.

Rossi smiled. "That's good enough for us," he said sounding apologetic. "Aaron, I'm sorry if I came across like I was questioning your judgement. I certainly didn't intend that to be the case."

Hotch smiled. "I know that, Dave. And I can see your point that if the others suborned perjury in order to win their cases, it certainly raises questions as to whether Jack did as well."

"But we know that not to be the case," Penelope chimed in. "Don't we, sir?"

"Yes, we do," Hotch replied. "It also shows why the Herlihys suspected Jack of hiding evidence that would clear Malcolm."

"They probably read about the other deaths and formed the same opinion we did about concealing evidence," Reid spoke for the first time.

"Regardless, Aaron," said Rossi. "We're gonna have to address that suspicion if you get my drift."

Hotch sighed wearily. "I do. But I've already spoken to Detective Curtis and Emily with Detective Briscoe. She confirms his account of things and I confirmed his partner's. Jack's case appears airtight."

"Maybe it didn't appear that way to McCoy's shooter," Reid pointed out. "Or maybe he just didn't give a damn."

"Uh…sir…" It was Garcia.

Hotch had forgotten she was still on the phone and had been listening to their conversation. "Sorry, Penelope. I didn't mean to forget about you. What is it?"

"I found Simon Heffner."

All three agents exchanged looks between them.

"Where is he, Garcia?" Hotch asked hoping they would at last get a lead.

"He's dead. Seems he was killed during a bank robbery five years ago. The reason I had so much trouble finding him is because he changed his last name to Waller which was his grandmother's last name. Sorry, sir."

"Not your fault. You did your best. Thanks." Hotch disconnected the call and put the phone back in his jacket pocket. He then looked at Rossi and Reid.

"Looks like we just lost our only possible suspect," Rossi remarked. He noticed a change in Hotch's face. "It's more than losing our only suspect, Aaron. What's bothering you?"

Hotch folded his arms across his chest. "We're missing something," he said.

* * *

The minute he bought the newspaper, he practically raced home. He needed to find out the latest on Jack McCoy's condition while secretly hoping and praying to find the man's obituary. If not, finding out he had suddenly died would serve the same pleasure. He had barely made it through the front door when he collapsed into his favorite recliner and began scouring the paper from end to end eagerly. When he didn't find it, he became enraged.

He slammed the paper on the floor and jumped to his feet. Storming into his kitchen, he yanked open the door of his refrigerator, snatched a can of beer, and closed the refrigerator door with a bang. He angrily popped the tab of his can, and downed nearly the entire can.

_Jack McCoy's still alive!_ He thought to himself. _That bastard should've been dead! Just like the others! He survived being shot. He survived being poisoned. There has to be a way to finish him off. Of course, now with that stupid BAU in town it would be more difficult to dispose of him. But they wouldn't stop him! He wouldn't allow them to keep him from his plan, and that was to murder Jack McCoy. McCoy would be the fifth prosecutor to die. All he need is to find a way to get pass those feds guarding his hospital door, and he will. Of that he is sure._

_But how to do it was the problem. He was off just a little with his Glock. If the man hadn't moved at the last minute, he would have put a bullet in the center of the back of his head, and that would have been the end of it. Dead as a door-nail._

_Then he bribed that dumb nurse to poison him by tampering with the IV. Even that failed. _He chuckled. _At least she had the sense to kill herself before the police or the BAU talked to her. No, he had to find another way and one that wouldn't attract attention. He had to find a way to make McCoy pay. But how?_

_Then a slow smile appeared as an idea came to him._

_The man did have two doctors taking care of him, didn't he?_


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. I had a migraine and a bad sinus infection that wouldn't go away.**

**Chapter 25**

Emily slowly walked inside the empty courtroom with Briscoe directly behind her. He looked around the room where the shooting had taken place, and grimaced as the memories came flooding back. The pandemonium. Abby Carmichael crouched down on the floor trying to stay alive. And then there was Jack McCoy. The prosecutor lying on the floor next to her bleeding profusely. Then his eyes fell on the bloodstain still on the floor from where the counselor had laid on his back after being shot.

Lennie sighed as he fought back the memories so he could do his job. He didn't have a problem following leads and doing whatever police work necessary wanting to bring this case to a successful resolution. But despite what had been uncovered so far, he still questioned if McCoy's shooting was actually part of a conspiracy like the BAU said, or if this was going to be a total waste of time.

"So this is how it went down," he wisecracked with a shake of his head and put his hands on his hips. He paused as Prentiss turned and faced him. "Y'know, agent…"

"It's Emily, detective," Prentiss said with a small grin. She liked this senior detective, and found him not only easy to talk to, but friendly once he'd gotten past having to work with her team. But despite everything, she suspected the detective still had doubts as to the conspiracy theory.

"Y'know, _Emily,_ we at the Two-Seven are damn good at solving cases. But I gotta admit I really can't conceive of something being as involved as you claim this is."

Prentiss sighed wearily as she reached for her cell phone inside her pocket. "Don't beat yourself up, Lennie. Once everything falls in place, this'll all become clear to you and your cohorts." After pressing the top button on her phone, she put the phone to her ear.

"Hotch? Emily. Listen, I'm still at the courthouse with Detective Briscoe. We found the listening device in the jury room. But while we're here, we thought we'd check out something else. Hotch, I have a theory as to how our second shooter entered the courtroom unnoticed, and I'd like to check it out." Briscoe noticed her eyebrows arch upward and her eyes widen. "He did? That's great news. You think he might be able to answer a few questions? I see. What about JJ? Think our guy has something to do with that? No. We're going to check out my theory before we return to the precinct. Okay. Bye." She disconnected the call and returned the phone to her pocket.

"Good news?" asked Briscoe innocently with raised eyebrows of his own.

"Yeah." Prentiss smiled. "Hotch got a call from District Attorney Schiff. Seems McCoy came out of his coma and may be able to answer a few questions. He asked to see Hotch."

Briscoe's smile widened. "That's great. Sounds like the counselor's on the mend."

"Yeah," Emily replied, as she thought about how this news affected Hotch. "Hopefully. Hotch sounded real happy about the news."

Lennie then became serious. "I bet he is. You asked about JJ. I assume that's the blonde? Agent Jareau I think her name is?"

"That's her. Seems she went to the home of Sally Driscoll, the nurse who provided Jack with the tainted IV in the hospital. She was found dead from an apparent overdose."

"Suicide?" Briscoe asked with knitted eyebrows.

"We're not sure. She did leave a note stating that 'he' made her do it. We have no idea who 'he' is at this point. Hotch sent your partner to her home as JJ's there alone. Hopefully together they can find something to tell us who this 'he' is."

"Tell me something. Did your boss say anything regarding his earlier talk Rey? I mean, they were suppose to talk."

Prentiss shrugged noncommittally. "He didn't say. But knowing Hotch as I do, I'm sure he did before he sent your partner to join JJ at the crime scene. You'll just have to ask him or Hotch yourself."

Briscoe let out a deep breath and glanced around. "Guess you're right. So where to next?"

"Let's see if we can find out how our second shooter got into the courtroom without drawing attention to himself. Then we can compare what we find out with what Hotch is told by McCoy."

* * *

Abby Carmichael was seated in her office reviewing the file of Jacob Herlihy for umpteenth time. Truthfully, she had no idea as to how many times she had reread this file hoping to find something she hadn't found previously, or exactly what she was looking for. Perhaps something she might have missed. Something…anything. Something that might offer a clue as to who shot Jack, or show that Estelle or Malcolm Herlihy were involved.

Despite what she had been told by Agent Hotchner, she couldn't let go of the file belonging to the man she and Jack had convicted at the time despite being told the Herlihys weren't involved. Her gut kept telling her that something was wrong somewhere. Of that she was _positive! _And she was determined to find out what that something was. She felt she owed it to Jack to find out who did this to him.

As she continued to dwell over the file, there came a knock on her door, causing her to look up, annoyed at the interruption.

"Come in," she ordered. Her annoyance dissipated when the door opened, and Agent Rossi stood in the doorway, a stack of files in his arms which she assumed were the same files agents Reid and Jareau had borrowed earlier. She smiled warmly and got to her feet.

"Agent Rossi," she said holding out her hand.

"Dave," Rossi corrected with a smile. He sat the files in one of the two chairs in front of her desk, then gripped her outstretched hand and held it firmly in his own. He mused at how soft her skin felt and ran his thumb over the back of her hand as he tightened his grip.

"Agent Rossi? Dave? My hand?" asked Abby. She was amused by the older man's not so subtle attempt to conceal his attraction. In addition to finding it flattering, she admitted to herself she did find the senior agent attractive despite the age difference.

"Sorry," Dave blushed and quickly released her hand. _God, she is so beautiful!_ _I envy McCoy_ _working with her on a daily basis._ He licked his suddenly dry lips and ran a hand over his thick hair. "Uh…I thought I'd return the files we borrowed earlier," he stammered. He felt like a giddy school boy instead of an adult and a seasoned federal agent.

"Thank you. Anybody stand out that we should be looking at?" she asked as she sat down slowly on the edge of her desk.

"We were able to eliminate all of them," Rossi admitted. He crossed his arms across his chest while peering into her dark brown eyes.

Abby let out a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "So what happens now?"

"We keep looking. Right now all we have are bits and pieces. But we're making progress, trust me. Also, our supervisor is going to question your boss later today."

"Is Jack able to tolerate being questioned? Mr. Schiff had called and updated me earlier telling me that Jack was undergoing tests. Apparently he's waking up, and had begun regaining some feeling in his legs last night. But will he be able to be of help at this point?"

"From what I understand, he's asked to see Agent Hotchner. So Hotch is gonna visit him later. Hopefully he can give him some answers."

"Agent Hotchner. I assume he's the one Jack calls Hotch."

Rossi smirked. "One and the same. Of course to me he's Aaron as we've known each other for over twenty years. By the way, before I forget, he wants me to inform you that when we're ready to deliver the profile, he'd like you and Mr. Schiff to be present."

"Of course. Do you know when that'll be?"

Rossi let out a deep breath. "Soon," he replied. It was then his eyes spotted the open folder on Abby's desk behind her. His eyebrows arched upward. "Whose folder is that?" he asked suspecting he knew the answer.

Carmichael glanced over her shoulder at the file then turned back to the agent. "I'm just looking through the folder of the last case Jack and I prosecuted before he was shot."

"Jacob Herlihy?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Just curious. We eliminated the Herlihys. So I have to wonder why you're interested in reexamining his file."

"To be honest, I have no idea. It's just that my gut is trying to tell me something that I can't figure out. Has that ever happened to you in your line of work?"

Rossi chuckled. "Many, many times." He took a deep breath as he continued to stare at the ADA. "Miss Carmichael…"

"Abby."

"Right…Abby. Let me change the subject for a moment if I may."

"Of course. What is it?"

"I know we might be a long way from solving this case, and this is probably not the right time, but I want to ask this now."

"Ask me what?"

"When this case is solved, and your boss is on the road to recovery, before my team and I head back to Quantico, I'd like to take you on a date. If that's okay with you."

Carmichael smiled. "Agent Rossi, once I'm convinced Jack is going to be fine, and we find the guilty person, I would very much like to go on a date with you before you return to Quantico."

Rossi's smiled widened, and he couldn't wait for this case to be solved.

* * *

Rey Curtis spotted the Coroner's wagon pulling away from the curb as he climbed the steps. Producing his credentials to the uniform at the front door, he was permitted entry into the premises where he found the CSI people hard at work, and recognized the blonde federal agent waiting for him. He suspected the Unit Chief had phoned her and alerted her of the detective's pending arrival.

"Agent Jareau…" he said when she approached. "Agent Hotchner sent me to join you. He thought maybe the two of us can find out who this person was who forced Nurse Driscoll to poison Jack McCoy and may have had something to do with her death."

JJ smiled warmly. "Glad you're here," she said. "And there's no need to be so formal. It's JJ, not Agent Jareau."

Curtis smiled just as warmly. "You can call me Rey." He took a deep breath. "What have you got so far?"

"Not much. The Coroner removed the body before you got here. CSU's been here for a little over an hour going through everything, and haven't found anything so far. I found the empty pill bottle and suicide note in her bedroom. Hopefully we can find out who this 'he' is."

"Where do you want to begin?"

"She was found dead in her bedroom. Let's start there."

* * *

It was several hours later that a mobile gurney on which lay Jack McCoy, was wheeled back into the ICU where Adam Schiff was standing in front of a window in Jack's room. His back was turned toward the door, both hands stuffed in his pants pockets, and staring at the people below in the street. When the door opened, he turned around to see what was happening. He smiled as the mobile stretcher gurney, maneuvered by two female nurses, one in front and the other in the rear, came closer. He noticed Jack's face was turned in his direction, and staring at him with what looked like a smile. Also, the ventilator had been replaced with a nasal cannula with an over-the-ear style headset. There were curved, tapered nasal prongs which fit inside the nostrils, and would allow an uninterrupted flow of oxygen.

Doctor Smythe, walking beside the gurney with his eyes down, scanned the documents attached to the clipboard he held in his hands. As the gurney was positioned beside the bed, both nurses locked the wheels on it, and prepared to move the patient back onto his regular bed. Smythe gestured to Schiff to join him a short distance away so they could talk privately while being out of the way of the nurses.

"Do you have his test results?" asked Schiff anxiously. "How is he?"

Smythe let out a deep breath. "Much better than I expected considering his condition at the time he was admitted."

Adam ran one hand over the back of his neck while keeping his other in his pants pocket. "What are you saying exactly?"

"Our tests show his pneumonia has cleared up completely and his lungs are clear, so we no longer need the ventilator. As you can see, we now have him using a nasal cannula to aid with his breathing. His injuries are healing nicely, and there's no sign of infection anywhere. A test of his eyesight shows his eyes react to both light and movement. His pupils were able to follow somebody whenever they were present in the room."

"What about his legs? Any more improvement since last night?"

"The swelling has gone down more thus allowing additional movement to be realized. I believe it's now safe to say that I expect in time he should regain full use of his legs. Of course he'll have to undergo two months of rigorous physical therapy. But if he applies himself to therapy the same way he's applied himself to surviving, there's no doubt in my mind he should fully recover."

Schiff smiled widely. "That's wonderful!"

"I agree. It's as I told you earlier, Mr. McCoy is a strong man with an incredible will to survive."

"So what happens now?" asked Schiff.

"Mr. McCoy will remain here in the ICU for another few days before being moved to a room of his own where he'll stay for about three days. Then he'll be moved to a rehabilitation facility where he'll stay for about two months while he regains the strength in his legs before being allowed to return home."

"Forgive me for asking, doctor, and there's no hurry, but how long before Jack can return to work?"

Smythe crossed his arms in front of him. "My best guess is he should be able to return to work in about six months. Of course this will depend on how well he does with his therapy."

"Thank you, doctor," Adam replied. "Thank you for everything you've done for Jack." He stuck out his hand.

"You're entirely welcome, Mr. Schiff," Smythe said as he gripped the older man's hand firmly and shook it. "So glad I could help."

After Smythe and the nurses had left the room, Adam sat back down in the hard chair. He and Jack were studying each other. The older man smiled.

"Jack, I spoke with Agent Hotchner. He's going to come by this evening to see you. He'll be as delighted with this news as I am and I believe Miss Carmichael will be."

Jack smiled weakly. "I am…glad. Can't wait…to see…Aaron."

"He'll be here. He promised he would."

"Go home…Adam. Don't…need…to be…here. Go…rest."

Schiff chuckled. "I think we both need to get some rest before Agent Hotchner arrives. So why don't you close your eyes and get some sleep. I'll let you know when he gets here. I promise."

* * *

_He collapsed in his comfy chair again with a fresh can of beer and took a sip. For over an hour he had been thinking of a way to get to one of McCoy's doctors and 'convince' him to kill the prosecutor but without success. Then a new thought occurred to him. ___He figured in a short time the lawyer would probably be moved from Intensive Care to a private or semiprivate room for a day or two. Even then an attempt would be difficult and out of the question as the feds guarding him would be reduced from four to two, but still there. ___In the end, McCoy would be sent to a rehabilitation center. Even then to try anything would prove difficult._

_ The attorney currently had too much security around him thus making it too risky to try again right now. It would be better if he waited. Waited as long as need be ___ in order to finish the job on Jack McCoy._ This was the right thing to do if he wanted it done right. ___He simply needed to wait until things quieted down and the security surrounding McCoy was removed entirely. He would simply ___wait until he got out of rehab and was allowed to go home. __T__hen he would strike and kill the man when he was at his most vulnerable and unprotected! H__e would put the man out of his misery permanently._

_A smile appeared followed by another swallow of beer._


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Briscoe sat behind the wheel with Emily seated beside him. The drive had been a silent one since they had left the courthouse. After finding out how the second shooter had entered the courtroom unnoticed by anyone, Prentiss suspected the detective needed time to digest the realization that the BAU had been correct. She glanced at the senior detective, her concern etched on her face.

"You all right?" she asked.

"I'm okay," the older man replied keeping his eyes glued to the road in front of him. "Why? Don't I sound all right to you?" He wasn't angry with the female agent although he suspected his tone reflected otherwise. In fact, he wasn't at all certain how he felt at this moment. He glanced in her direction. "Well do I?" he asked.

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure. Since we found out how our second shooter gained access to the courtroom, you've appeared kind of off to me."

Briscoe sighed. "It's just…this conspiracy thing is kinda messin' with my mind. I mean, this entire thing started with McCoy being shot and looked like a simple case of somebody being ticked off with the counselor. And turns out instead to be part of a full-blown conspiracy. Go figure." He steered the car around a corner and continued driving.

Emily pondered over what she had been told. She moistened her lips and looked at the man beside her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I truly am."

Briscoe glanced at her and could see the sincerity in her dark brown eyes. A small grin appeared. "I know this has nothing to do with the case, and I don't mean to be nosy, but can I ask you something?"

"Of course." She suspected what the detective was going to ask from the way he had been looking at her since they met.

"Are you seeing anybody?"

Emily bowed her head and her cheeks tinged pink. Looking back up, she could see the older man appeared embarrassed at his own behavior.

"I'm sorry," Briscoe apologized quickly. "Please forgive me. I'm not usually…"

Prentiss chuckled. "There's nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong. And to answer your question, no, I'm not seeing anybody." She noticed a small smile starting to appear on the detective's face. "Why?"

Briscoe let out a deep breath as he mulled over what he planned to say next.

"Detective…?" Emily asked leaning slightly forward as she attempted to look in the detective's eyes. "Are you going to ask me out on a date?"

Briscoe licked his dry lips. He glanced at the brunette. "Only after this case is solved and we're sure McCoy is gonna be okay. That is if you want to go out with an old guy like me. I mean…"

Emily smiled warmly. "Lennie, once this case is solved, and Jack is on the road to recovery, I would be honored to go on a date with you before I have to return to Quantico. And no, you are not an old guy. Not by any means."

Briscoe looked at her with a huge smile on his own face. He couldn't wait to tell his partner of his good fortune.

* * *

Adam Schiff jerked awake when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Still groggy, he rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger before looking up at the person who startled him awake. He smiled when he saw who it was.

"Lieutenant," he mumbled tiredly. "Didn't expect to see you here."

A smiling Anita Van Buren stepped in front of Schiff and sat on the edge of Jack's bed so she could face the district attorney. "I received a phone call from Abby Carmichael earlier. She told me the good news. I'm so happy for you and for Jack."

Schiff straightened up in his chair. "Thank you." He glanced at McCoy and noticed the man's eyes had opened. He then glanced at the female officer. "You can tell him yourself."

Van Buren shifted her body slightly so her eyes now fell on McCoy. She noticed him looking at her with a tired smile on his face.

"You certainly look much better than I remember from the last time I saw you." She said sincerely as she rested her hand on top of one of Jack's. "How you doing, counselor?" she asked.

"Better lieu….tenant. How…are you?"

"I'm doing fine," she said with a smile. "I hear you're doing really well. I'm glad to hear it."

"How's…investi…gation?"

The woman sighed. "It's going slowly. But trust me when I say we are making progress, especially with the BAU's help." She paused. "I have to admit that at first I was wary of accepting their assistance. But after getting to know and talk to them, they are a pretty impressive group. There's no doubt in my mind that before long we'll solve this case."

Jack momentarily closed his eyes then opened them again. "Aaron…knows what…he's doing."

"Yes he does," she agreed, then tilted her head to the side. "I understand from Miss Carmichael that he's going to visit you later today."

"He is. I hope…I can…help…with investi…gation. Want to."

Van Buren patted his hand. "Whatever assistance you give I'm sure will help with the investigation." She took in and let out a deep breath. "I better let you get some rest before Agent Hotchner gets here. I was on my lunch hour and wanted to stop by and see how you're doing."

"Thank…you."

She got to her feet and prepared to leave. "You're welcome. Just hurry up and get well. Miss Carmichael tells me the DA's office is kind of dull without you around. Also, we need you there, counselor."

McCoy's response was a tired smile.

Van Buren placed a hand on Schiff's shoulder causing the older man to look up into her face.

"And you," she said to Schiff. "You take care of yourself. It won't do any good for Mr. McCoy to get well and for you to get sick. Do you hear what I'm telling you?"

Schiff bowed his head and smirked. "I hear you." He looked up again. "You don't have to worry about me, lieutenant. The doctors here are keeping after me about overdoing things. They threatened to admit me if I don't behave."

"See that you do, Mr. Schiff," she ordered as if admonishing one of her young sons. Then, with a final look back at the ADA, she then gave the DA a final look as well before leaving the room.

* * *

Rey Curtis was behind the wheel as he drove himself and JJ back to the 27th Precinct. They had spent the better half of ninety minutes searching Sally Driscoll's home and had found nothing to identify who the 'he' was that ordered Jack's IV to be poisoned.

Curtis glanced at the beautiful blonde who was gazing at the passing scenery as she stared out the open car window with her arms crossed across her chest. _God, she is beautiful!_

"What's it like?" he asked.

"What's what like?" JJ asked glancing back at the detective, her Cerulean blue eyes sparkling.

"Working for the FBI."

JJ shrugged. "Although interesting, it does have its moments."

"And the BAU? How about that?"

She let out a deep breath as she arranged her words carefully. "I love my job. It pleases me when I'm able to help stop someone _before_ they can hurt another person. I think that's what I love _most_ about it, and can't see myself working for any other unit."

Curtis spotted her wedding and engagement rings. "And your husband doesn't mind you traveling across the country chasing criminals?"

"His name is Will LaMontagne Jr, after his father, and he's a detective like his dad was before him. We met when he required the BAU's help while he was with the New Orleans Police Department. He had a case that had been left unresolved by his father who died during Hurricane Katrina, and was determined to solve it himself when another murder happened similar to when his dad was alive. Men were being mutilated in the French Quarter. Anyway, Will and I developed a relationship during the case and before long we fell in love." (1)

Curtis grinned. "Did you solve the case for him?"

"We did. The killer turned out to be a woman who was originally raped. Will's dad believed her but his partner didn't. In fact, his partner blamed her for her own attack, so nothing was ever done and her case was never investigated. She was committing Jack the Ripper style murders as retaliation for what happened to her years earlier."

"Did you ever locate her?"

"We did. When she was found, she was about to mutilate another man. Will talked her down without anybody firing a single shot. He was amazing."

Rey glanced at the blonde as he steered around a street corner before continuing to drive.

"So how did you manage to continue your relationship? I mean, even _I _know a long distance relationship doesn't work."

JJ held up her hand and lovingly stared at the rings on her ring finger. "We would take turns every weekend traveling to see each other. But then I became pregnant. Will proposed and I accepted. He then quit his job with the NOPD and moved to Quantico, Virginia where we got married. He managed to get a job with the police department in Quantico. We also have two children, Henry who's now three, and Michael who is a year. And despite the differences in our schedules, we manage to make it work between us."

"But doesn't your husband worry about the dangers you face in your job? I mean facing serial killers and the like?"

JJ sighed. "He does. But he knows my teammates and trusts them to have my back. And Hotch does his best to keep us all safe, and takes it personally when one of us gets injured on the job. Blames himself." She paused. "Of course I worry about Will being in the street, but I trust he will be careful and come home to me and the kids." She paused again. "How about you? How does your wife handle you being a cop?"

Curtis shrugged. "Debra isn't crazy about it, and she really got upset after I was injured on the job by a drug-crazed girl Lennie and I were trying to apprehend. But she's adjusted since. Also, she met Lennie, and trusts that he'll have my back." (2)

"And your girls? How do they feel?"

A smile appeared. "They're a little too young to really understand the dangers of daddy's job."

JJ grinned. "Enjoy it while you can, Rey. Eventually they will become old enough to start asking about daddy's work, and then you'll have to decide what and how much to tell them."

"I gather you're speaking from experience with Henry and Michael."

"Yeah. I'll have the same problem when they get older. Right now all Henry knows is that mommy helps people. Michael is too young to even know that much. In fact, Hotch and I are the only ones on the team with small children. Hotch's son Jack is about seven, and all he knows is that his daddy helps people and considers him a real-life superhero. We both try and keep the truth of our jobs from our kids. So I can relate to keeping your kids in the dark as to the truth about your job."

* * *

It was early evening when Adam Schiff was startled again by a hand on his shoulder. Rubbing his eyes again with his thumb and forefinger, he glanced upward and smiled at the familiar person.

"Aaron, so glad to see you're here. Jack's been anxiously waiting for you to come."

Both men turned their attention to McCoy who slowly opened his eyes and fixated on the dark-haired federal agent. He smiled.

"Ar…ron."

Hotch smiled warmly. "Jack. It's good to finally be able to talk _with_ you instead of _at_ you."

"Want…to help."

"And you will. Jack, all I ask is for you to let me know when you need to stop and we will. Can you do that?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Yes."

Hotch looked at Schiff. "Adam, you need not stay during our conversation. Why don't you go to the cafeteria and get something to eat and relax. I promise to have somebody come get you when we're done."

Adam glanced at Hotch first, then the ADA, and back at Hotch again. He put his hands together and placed them in his lap. "I'm not going anywhere. So go ahead and ask your questions. I'm staying right here."

* * *

(1) The Criminal Minds episode where JJ and Will LaMontagne first met is JONES, Season 2, E18.

(2) The Law and Order episode in which Rey Curtis was injured on the job was BAD GIRL, Season 8, E21.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

With an impassive look on his face, Hotch lowered himself on the edge of the bed and positioned himself so he and the injured man could face each other.

"Jack, I want to try something different with you other than the standard Q&A. I want to do what we call a cognitive interview as that will be easier on you. What I want you to do for me is close your eyes, let out a deep breath, and relax. Then I want you to listen only to the sound of my voice."

Jack glanced at Schiff his eyes silently asking what he should do. Schiff looked at the agent.

"What is this cognitive interview suppose to accomplish if I may ask?" he asked.

"It's a method we use to get people we question to recall things they otherwise can't remember, or recall things they didn't realize they knew."

"I'll do it," McCoy replied. That said, he closed his eyes, took in then let out a deep breath. He felt his body begin to relax and the tension ease.

_**(The Cognitive Interview):**_

"Jack, its Hotch. I want you to go back to the day you were shot. Tell me what the last thing is that you remember just before it happened."

"_Guilty ver…dict," _McCoy muttered with closed eyes. _"Won…my case. Guilty."_

"Anything else happen?"

"_Abby…dropped pen…on floor. I bent…down to…pick…it up."_

"What about _after_ the guilty verdict? What do you remember happening afterward?"

"_The pain…"_ McCoy's clenched his hands into fists so tightly it was feared his fingernails would cut his palms and cause them to bleed. Both Hotch and Schiff noticed the injured man's reaction at recalling the shooting. _"My back…pain. Then…pain in…my head. I fell…hit my head…table. Legs…wouldn't work."_

"It's okay, Jack," Hotch softly said resting one of his hands on top of McCoy's hand closest to him hoping to calm him. "You're safe now. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."

McCoy's clenched hands began to relax which also didn't go unnoticed.

"_Trust you….Hotch."_

Hotch smiled. "What else do you remember?"

"_Abby. Wor…ried…bout…her. Thought…she…shot."_

"Are you now aware that Abby Carmichael is completely fine and was not hurt in any way?"

"_Yes."_

"How do you know this?"

"_Adam told…me. Wouldn't…lie…to me…bout Abby." _

"Jack, did anything strange happen in court before you were shot? Did you notice anything or anybody strange?"

McCoy squeezed his already closed eyes tighter but not because he seemed scared of a memory. To Hotch it seemed like McCoy was trying to recall something.

"_Seemed…out of…place. Saw…out of…corner…of my…eye…before felt…pain."_

"What is it that you saw or heard? Can you tell me?"

"_A man… appeared…front of…court."_

Schiff straightened up in his chair now.

"What did this man look like? Can you describe him?"

McCoy stretched his body indicating he was tiring. He let out a deep breath.

"I know you're tired, Jack," Hotch said. "But we're almost finished."

"_I can…handle it."_

"Okay, now, can you describe the man you saw?"

"_Tall…white...thin face…body…dark…brown hair…eyes."_

"Was there anything special about him that stood out to you?"

Jack licked his lips. _"Wear…ing…bail…iff's…uni…form. Seems…weird."_

"Weird? How so?"

"_Uni…form…didn't seem…to fit…looked…too…small."_

Schiff's ears perked up at hearing this information.

"_So tired," _McCoy said sleepily. _"Need…rest."_

"I only have one more question and then you can sleep. Is there anything else you can tell me about this man? Anything at all."

"_Noth…ing…" _Jack murmured, his voice fading quickly. Soon a gentle snoring was heard by both men telling them the injured ADA had fallen asleep.

_**(End of Cognitive Interview)**_

Schiff chewed his lower lip before looking at the Unit Chief.

"Well?" he asked. "How'd he do?"

Hotch crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the older man. "Well, he managed to give us a few answers, especially regarding the second shooter. I have a feeling when we find this man he'll lead us to the others."

"Others? I thought there were two shooters?"

"There are. But I believe I can say with assurance that a third person can be added to the equation. Two shooters and a third person to disrupt the cameras."

"My God," Adam said with a sigh as he ran a hand down his haggard face. "So what happens now?" he asked.

"Right now I'm returning to the police precinct and my team and I will discuss what we've uncovered today. I'll also need to speak with Jack again this evening and I'll be bringing a sketch artist with me. I'd like to get a composite of the man he saw so we can release it to the public when we give the profile tomorrow. That means I'll want you and Abby to come to the 27th Precinct at nine-thirty in the morning."

Schiff nodded his head. "We'll be there with bells on."

Hotch shifted his eyes in Jack's direction one last time before he got to his feet, careful so as not to wake the sleeping man.

"You did well, Jack," he murmured softly, and then addressed the district attorney.

"Tell him I will be back later with a sketch artist. As an attorney, I'm certain he's aware how important it is that we get a composite of the shooter out to the public."

* * *

Alone again, Schiff leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He watched the ADA peacefully sleeping as his mind drifted back to what Hotch had said. The more he thought about it, the more he now believed that Jack's shooting was _not_ personal, and that the BAU's assumption that it was part of a conspiracy had been correct.

But _who_ would want to shoot Jack McCoy? And better yet, why? Those were the two questions nagging the district attorney as he continued to stare at his friend. Who would _do_ this to McCoy and for what reason? Schiff wanted, no, _demanded, _an answer.

"We're gonna find him, Jack," Adam murmured softly so as to not awaken the man. "I promise you that. We're going to _find_ him, and _punish_ him. You have my word on this." He paused as McCoy moaned softly in his sleep as he turned his head towards Schiff. Schiff wondered what his friend was thinking or dreaming about right now.

* * *

McCoy was restless while trying to sleep. He tossed and turned, his mind a jumble of puzzle pieces he was trying to assemble into a picture.

_I saw him point his gun at me. I saw it. I believed he was aiming at Abby. I thought he was going to shoot her. But he didn't. He didn't shoot me either. Why didn't he shoot either of us? Why did I notice him I the first place? Was it because the uniform seemed too small on him? Is that why I remember him?_

Another moan could be heard from McCoy as he turned his head away from Schiff.

_Do I remember anything else about him? I'm not sure. Not sure what else I can tell Aaron when he comes back. Yet, somehow I feel like there is something else I remember about him. If I can just remember what that something else is._

He turned his head again towards Adam and his eyes cracked open so he could see the older man staring at him.

"_Adam…"_

Schiff leaned closer to the bed and rested his forearms on its edge. "You're suppose to be asleep, Jack. Why are you awake?"

"_I remem…ber…"_

"What do you remember?"

"_Need…to tell….Hotch. Impor….tant."_

"About the phony bailiff you saw?"

McCoy slowly nodded his head. From the look on his face, he appeared panic-stricken according to Schiff. The older man gripped McCoy's hand that was the closest to him in an attempt to calm the man. He felt his friend's hand clench tightly into a fist.

"Jack, you need to calm down. Hotch promised he would be back later with a sketch artist. He wants to get a composite so they can release it to the public when they deliver their profile tomorrow. If you don't calm down, either Doctor Smythe or Doctor Asperger is going to possibly sedate you or at least prohibit Hotch from talking to you again. So please calm down."

Jack closed his eyes then opened them again as he willed his body to calm down if only to be able to see Hotch later. Schiff could feel Jack's hand unclenching and smiled.

"That's my boy," the older man said with a smile. "Now, can you tell me what it is you remember about this man?"

"_Adam…I need to…tell you…in case…Hotch isn't…able to…see me…later. Some…body…needs…to know."_

Schiff moistened his lips, waiting. "Tell me."

Jack licked his lips. "_I remember some…thing else…about him." _

* * *

Hotch let out a deep breath as he knocked on the door of Anita Van Buren's office.

"Come in," came the order from inside.

Hotch opened the door to find the lieutenant seated behind her desk hard at work, her desk covered with reports. Being in charge himself, Hotch knew what it was like to have his desk at work inundated with paperwork. He pitied the female officer. Looking up, she spotted the look on the Unit Chief's face, and chuckled.

"The curse of being in charge," she joked with an amused grin. She sensed the Unit Chief, being in charge himself, could understand the abundance of paperwork. Hotch sensed she was trying to lighten the mood and grinned. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk, crossed his legs, and stared at the woman.

"Agent Hotchner." She lay down her ink pen and clasped her hands together on top of several papers. "How goes it so far? Did you get a chance to speak with McCoy?"

"Things are going slowly, but the case is starting to come together. And yes, I did get to speak briefly with Jack."

"And?"

"He was able to give us some information and a description of the second shooter. I would, however, like to revisit him this evening with a sketch artist so we can generate a composite and release it to the public when we give the profile tomorrow morning at nine-thirty to your officers."

Van Buren's eyebrows arched upward. "You think the description McCoy gave could be of our second shooter?"

"I think it's our second shooter who alerted the primary shooter who then shot McCoy in the back using a silencer. I also feel once we find this guy, he'll led us to the other shooter and to the person who disrupted the camera feed."

Van Buren paused. "You're now saying there's _three _people involved instead of two?"

"We originally believed it was two shooters acting together. But it isn't possible for two people to be inside the courtroom armed with guns, and for one of them to disrupt the cameras during the shooting. It just isn't plausible in our opinion. Therefore, we now believe there are three UnSubs involved. We also believe if we find the second shooter he'll led us to the others."

The lieutenant pursed her lips and nodded her head, understanding. She picked up her telephone receiver, and pressed a few buttons before putting the receiver to her ear. "I'll make sure there's a sketch artist at your disposal. How soon do you want him or her?"

Hotch checked his watch and noticed it was nearing six-thirty. "Visiting hours at the hospital end at nine. I want to return there around seven-thirty."

She looked at Hotch while waiting for somebody to pick up on the other end.

"I'll have somebody here in half-an-hour. Will that be okay?"

"Fine."

After several minutes, Van Buren hung up her receiver. "The sketch artist will meet you downstairs at the front door at seven o'clock. Her name's Danielle Tuscany."

"Good. Thank you, lieutenant." Hotch was about to get to his feet when there was a muffled ringing of a cell phone heard. He reached inside his jacket, removed his phone, and glanced at the caller ID. Seeing who it was, he put it on speaker. "You're on speaker, Penelope, and I have Lieutenant Van Buren here. Have you got something for me?"

The level of excitement in her voice was indescribable to the Unit Chief.

"Sir, I was being my usual brilliant multitasking self when I discovered something by accident that I didn't expect. I can hardly believe it myself."

"What is it, Garcia?" He wasn't in the mood for a long diatribe.

"My liege, you're not gonna believe what I found. I can't believe it myself! Just wait until you…."

"_Garcia!" _

Van Buren chuckled silently as she listened.

"Sorry, sir. I was searching through police precincts in the Midwest where our four previous legal eagles were murdered, and came across a sixth officer who was killed by his own gun."

Both Hotch and Van Buren exchanged looks at this surprising news.

"A _sixth_ officer, Garcia? How did you miss this?" asked Hotch, sounding annoyed.

"I was retracing my steps and looking at other officers who were killed with their own guns, and that the prosecutor who tried their killer was killed himself. I came across Officer Michael Lackey of the Kansas City Police Department. He was shot and killed by a Cyrus Wyatt, eighteen, who was charged not only with the break-in of the officer's home, but with killing the officer a week later using Lackey's own weapon. He was tried by Alfred Sinclair of the Kansas City's DA's office."

When Hotch spoke, it was apparent to the tech analyst that he had calmed down although she knew he wasn't really angry with her. It had more to do with how this new information might affect their investigation and profile.

"Did they find any prints on the dead officer's weapon?"

"Not Wyatt's, sir. The only prints found were the dead officer's. The police believe Wyatt wore glove liners so as not to leave his prints."

"When was Sinclair killed, Garcia?"

"That's just it, sir. Alfred Sinclair is still very much alive."

Hotch exchanged looks with Van Buren. Both were temporarily speechless.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Hotch was stunned and momentarily at a loss for words. "What do you mean Alfred Sinclair is still alive?"

"Just what I said, sir. He is alive and well even as we speak."

"Garcia, what was the deposition of his case?"

"Un momento, Mon Capitan. I'll give you the 411 on his case in a second. And here it is. The case was lost because of insufficient evidence."

The Unit Chief sighed and shook his head. "Thanks, Penelope. If you find anything else let me know."

"Your wish is my command, sir. Tootles." Garcia disconnected her call.

Hotch returned his cell to his pocket, and stared at the lieutenant.

"What are you thinking, lieutenant?" he asked. He wanted to see if Van Buren and he were on the same wavelength.

Van Buren exhaled deeply. "If this lawyer, Sinclair, is still alive, the only thing I can figure out from hearing your side of the conversation is he lost his case at trial."

"My thoughts exactly. The ones that were murdered all won their cases possibly because they suborned perjury to do it. But you and I both know Jack, and he isn't the type to do that to win a case."

"You're right about that. He has the most integrity of any prosecutor I know. I've heard he sometimes pushes the envelope to win a conviction, but I've always known him to be a straight shooter. From what I know, if he loses a case, he takes it to heart and blames himself. But suborn perjury…no way." She paused for a long moment and her eyes took on a faraway look. "However…"

"However what?" asked Hotch with knitted eyebrows. He suspected he was going to find out something that Jack had never told him for whatever reason.

Van Buren hesitated as to whether she should tell Hotch as she didn't want to damage the friendship between the two men, but decided she would and proceeded warily.

"I know I shouldn't probably be telling you this, but I feel you have a right to know considering. Several years ago there was a hit-and-run case involving a Bernard Dressler who struck and killed three people including a child. McCoy tried the case. Keep in mind he was going through a rough time because his prior assistant, Claire Kincaid, had been killed in a hit-and-run by a drunk driver." (1)

"I know about what happened to Claire," he said quietly. "Jack called me after it happened."

"What you may not know is that the female ADA who replaced Claire was Jamie Ross. Excellent lawyer. Speaks her mind. From what I know, Jack kept a bottle of Scotch in his desk and took a drink now and then after a case to relax or celebrate a victory. But after her death I heard he began drinking heavily outside the office, and when at work began acting out-of-character even for him."

Hotch had to admit this information he was hearing was a part of Jack he didn't know anything about. In his phone calls with the attorney following Kincaid's death, McCoy had never spoken about this. Perhaps he had been embarrassed? Sorry? Thought Hotch would be disappointed in him and think he was a fraud? Whatever the reason, Hotch knew he could never be disappointed in the man, least of all for being human. He remembered how he himself had acted when Haley died and how Dave and his sister-in-law Jessica had helped him through it.

"What happened with the trial?"

"The way I understand it, Jack blamed himself for Claire's death. I think he still does. Sad thing is this guy only got twelve lousy months. So he wanted to punish Dressler in a way he couldn't punish the driver who killed Claire. Even Adam Schiff had to remind him that Dressler was the one on trial and not the other guy. That's how concerned he was that Jack was spiraling. Also, I heard rumors that he was even drinking in his office during the trial."

"Lieutenant, who told you this information if I may ask?"

Van Buren hesitated to continued, but she had come this far and believed she couldn't stop now.

"I'd rather not say and I hope you can understand that," she said.

Hotch let out a deep breath. He already had a suspicion as to who had leaked the information to Van Buren but not out of viciousness, but out of need to possibly to ease their own distress and needing someone to talk with. He suspected that person was Jack's ADA Jamie Ross but couldn't swear to it. (2)

"What happened next?"

"Jaime knew he was out-of-control because of this case and his blaming himself for Claire's death. But what alerted her as to how _far_ he was spiraling was he had a flight attendant's statement stating Dressler had had about fifteen drinks and was beyond being drunk. She practically begged him to turn the statement over to the defense. He refused, and concealed it instead. Jaime knew he was intent on getting a questionable death sentence in the case, and get revenge for Claire Kincaid's death. But Jaime kept talking to him. Fortunately, she managed to get through to him during the trial. He came to his senses and handed over the statement to the defense."

"What happened to Dressler?"

"I understand he ended up being sentenced to serious prison time. The kind of prison time McCoy had wanted for the driver who killed Kincaid. Afterward, I'm not sure if he then cut down on his drinking or went on the wagon, but I heard he bounced back after that case, and Jaime Ross, I feel, had a lot to do with keeping him from totally crashing and burning."

Hotch nodded in understanding. He checked his watch. He had about five minutes before he had to meet the sketch artist downstairs.

"What happened with Jack afterward?"

Van Buren sighed wearily. "He seems all right to me. I mean his moment of weakness doesn't make him unethical by any means. It just proves he's human despite what some people may think or say about him."

Aaron grinned. "Knowing what I do about him, I understand how some people find him cold and uncaring, but nothing is further from the truth. He keeps his emotions under wraps. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to do his job. As a former prosecutor myself, I know. You need to detach yourself emotionally from the person you're prosecuting. In other words, if you sympathize with that person, as a prosecutor, you won't be effective."

"And he does a very good job detaching himself from the defendants. I know that for a fact," Van Buren said.

"He also defends those he likes and trusts…like you, lieutenant. He's told me many times how much he respects you. I understand from others that he defends you to those who criticize you." He chuckled. "He's told me several times how you don't hesitate to read him the riot act if warranted. I believe that's what he respects most about you. You won't let a person's position keep you from speaking your mind."

Van Buren chuckled. She was well aware that the prosecutor defended her against her critics, and she appreciated it more than he would ever know. And although they clashed on occasion regarding cases, they both liked and respected each other. Like her, McCoy spoke his mind and she respected that. She always knew where she stood with the attorney.

"I know," was all she said which told the Unit Chief volumes regarding the friendship between Van Buren and McCoy.

Aaron started out of his chair. "What you told me stays between us, lieutenant. It's nobody's business, and nobody else needs to know. But right now, I need to get going. Just remember, I want you and your officers available at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. We'll be delivering the profile and release a composite at that time."

"We'll be here," she said as she got to her feet behind her desk. After she and Hotch shook hands, she watched the agent turn and leave her office. She then sat back down and resumed her paperwork.

* * *

Alone in her office again after Rossi had departed, Abby sat down and returned to the Herlihy file. She had left word with several people she was not to be disturbed again unless it had to do with McCoy's shooting, a visit from one of the FBI agents, or a phone call from Schiff or the hospital. Regarding Schiff, she was glad she had mentioned to the district attorney that she would be in her own office if he needed to speak with her again.

"What am I missing," she muttered half to herself as she read the file again. "There has to be something here that I can't see."

She sighed when her office phone rang, again annoyed at being interrupted.

"Carmichael," she said into the receiver. "Yes, sir," said realizing it was Schiff. "How is he?" A smile appeared. "That's wonderful, sir. Sounds like Jack is recovering. Sir, Agent Rossi brought back the files that were borrowed earlier, and told me they had dismissed all of them. No, he gave no indication as to who the shooter might be. Yes, he told me his team will deliver their profile tomorrow and requests you and I be there. Yes, sir. Please tell Jack I'll visit him tomorrow after the BAU delivers their profile. Yes, sir. Bye." She hung up her receiver and turned her attention back to the file in front of her.

* * *

Rossi walked into the conference room at the 27th Precinct to find Spencer Reid reading a technical journal. The genius looked up when the older man walked in and closed the journal.

"Where is everybody?" Rossi asked looking around.

"Well, Morgan hasn't come back yet. Hotch took a sketch artist with him and returned to the hospital to have a composite generated. JJ and Detective Curtis aren't back yet, and neither are Detective Briscoe and Emily."

"So it's just you and me, Kid?"

"Guess so," Reid replied as he opened his journal and resumed reading. "So, did you manage to get a date with Miss Carmichael?" he asked not looking up.

Rossi smirked. "That I did. And I know I'm gonna regret asking this, but how did you know?"

Now it was Reid's turn to smirk as he continued reading. "It was just a matter of time. The entire team knows how you've been looking at her. I'm surprised it's taken you this long to ask her."

Rossi sighed. "One cannot rush these things, my boy. And if you must know, our date isn't until this case is solved and Mr. McCoy is on his way to a complete recovery."

Just then the door opened again and JJ walked inside accompanied by Detective Curtis. The junior detective glanced at Reid and Rossi who had no expressions on their faces, so it was impossible to determine what they were thinking, but he suspected they were watching him and his interaction with the blonde profiler. He looked at JJ and smiled.

"I think I'll be heading out and report to L.T. about what was found in Sally Driscoll's house. I guess we'll talk later?"

JJ smiled and nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Perhaps, Rey," she replied.

Seeing the other agents smirking in his direction, Curtis turned and walked out of the conference room, his cheeks turning pink.

Standing behind her, Rossi coughed to clear his throat. JJ turned and looked at him.

She noticed the smirk on the older man's face.

"What?" she asked with arched eyebrows.

Rossi grinned. "I think somebody has piqued the interest of young Detective Curtis."

JJ rolled her eyes. "Just so you know, Rossi, Rey Curtis knows I am not interested in any man other than Will. Also, he's made it clear he made a mistake once and it nearly cost him his marriage, and doesn't intend the repeat that mistake again."

The older man held up both hands in defense, palms forward. "Hey, I was just making an observation."

"Ask him about his date with Abby Carmichael," Reid interjected not looking up from his journal.

With an amused look on her face, the blonde turned on Rossi. "And you've got the nerve to question _me_ about somebody?"

Rossi scowled at Reid first before grinning at the blonde. "Actually, I'll have you know, Miss Carmichael and I agreed to go on a date after this case is solved, and McCoy is on the mend."

JJ smirked at the older man. "We want details afterward," she said jokingly.

Before Rossi could respond, the door opened again, and in walked Derek Morgan looking tired. He let the door close before collapsing into a chair and letting out a deep breath.

"Where's Emily and Boss-man?" he asked glancing around not seeing the brunette duo.

"Hotch and a sketch artist are at the hospital," said Reid. "And Emily is still out with Detective Briscoe."

Morgan grinned. "Sounds like our Princess might have something juicy to tell us when she gets back."

Rossi smirked while JJ put her hands on her hips and stared at the bald agent.

"Can you keep your mind out of the gutter for a few minutes? Hotch sent her and Detective Briscoe to search the jury room hoping to find a listening device. I'm also guessing they're checking something else out while they're there."

"Whatever you say," Morgan added. "But unless you're blind as a bat, you haven't seen the way that Detective's been eyeing her. I have. And believe me when I say there's something brewing there."

JJ smirked. "Speaking of something brewing, maybe you should ask Rossi about his scheduled date with one Abby Carmichael?"

Morgan looked up at the older man and grinned. "So you finally asked her, huh? Good for you, old man."

"Watch that old man crap, youngster, or I'll show you just how old I am by kicking your ass. Besides, our date won't be until everything is finito, and McCoy is on the road to recovery, and not before. And I agree with JJ about Emily. Not everybody has a one-track mind. So get your mind out of the gutter."

A smirking Morgan slouched down in his chair, stretched out his legs, and crossed his arms. He looked up at the older man. "We'll see," was all he'd say.

Just then, Rossi felt his cell phone vibrate and reached into his jacket. "Excuse me." Removing the cell, he checked the caller ID before putting the phone to his ear. "What's up, Aaron?" He listened carefully. "You're kidding? And the prosecuting attorney?" He noticed the others were watching him and waiting patiently. "I see. That certainly puts a twist on things, doesn't it? How's it going with McCoy and the composite? Okay, see you when you get back." He disconnected the call and returned the cell to his pocket. He then looked around at the others which included Reid who had now closed his journal, and slipped it inside his messenger bag which rested on the floor near his feet.

"What'd Hotch say?" asked JJ.

"He and the sketch artist are with McCoy right now. He should be back here in less than two hours. He wants us to wait here. But we may have a slight problem."

"What kind of problem?" Reid asked.

Rossi let out a deep breath and crossed his arms. He sat down on the edge of the table. "Seems Garcia came across a sixth officer, a Michael Lackey in Kansas City who was shot and killed with his own gun. The attorney trying the case was Albert Sinclair."

"And…?" Asked JJ.

"Apparently Mr. Sinclair is alive and well seeing and he lost his case against the shooter," said Rossi. "Seems that is the reason he's still alive according to Hotch."

"Wait a minute," Morgan interjected. "You're telling us that Hotch believes that this lawyer, Sinclair, is alive because he lost his case against the shooter."

"That's what he told me," added Rossi.

_"Damn!"_ Morgan muttered under his breath. He, JJ, and Rossi all faced Reid who didn't seem fazed at all by the sudden attention.

"What?" he asked curiously.

"Don't you remember, Kid," Morgan said. "You told us early on that the attorneys who were killed were murdered because they won cases they weren't suppose to have won from the beginning."

Reid chuckled. "I did say that, didn't I?" recalling the theory. He sighed. "I guess Lackey's shooting just proves my theory. The minute those other attorneys won their cases it made them targets to be killed." He held up a hand stopping anybody from speaking. "And before anybody says anything, the only reason Jack McCoy wasn't killed was because he moved at the last moment causing him to miss being killed by a head shot."

* * *

(1) The L&O episode in which McCoy wanted revenge against the drunk driver who killed Claire Kincaid by substituting the drunk driver who ran down three people, and sought an inappropriate death sentence was UNDER THE INFLUENCE, Season 8, E11.

(2) In the same episode, it is hinted at that McCoy is out-of-control because he blames himself for Claire's death, and for what he considers an insufficient punishment for the drunk driver who killed her. There is nothing to even indicate that Van Buren knew, or that Jaime Ross ever said anything to anyone.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The door to the conference room opened again, and Emily Prentiss walked in alone, looking tired. As she closed the door behind her, she noticed the others studying her closely. _What are they looking at?_

"Where's the detective?" Morgan asked with a playful smirk on his face.

"Detective Briscoe?" asked Prentiss having an idea where he was going with his statement. "He's reporting what we found to his lieutenant. Why?" She folded her arms across her chest and stared at Morgan.

Derek shrugged. "Just wondering if he's made a move yet. I've seen how he looks at you. You scare him off, Princess, or uh…playing hard to get?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know, Lennie Briscoe is a hardworking, decent man who takes his job very seriously."

"You're awfully defensive for someone with nothing to hide. So, I gotta ask you…how come?" Morgan enjoyed teasing his teammates about their love lives, no matter who it was. He didn't mean any harm. He just enjoyed the reactions he got.

Prentiss knew exactly what he was doing, and was too tired to play his games. "I'm not getting defensive," she said with a crooked grin. "It's just that we agreed not to go on a date until this case is solved and Jack McCoy is on the road to full recovery. And no, I will not reward you by giving you any information which I consider none of your business."

JJ grinned. "Em, maybe you and Rossi can double date."

Emily smiled and studied the senior agent. "So you finally asked Abby Carmichael out, Rossi? It's about damn time. What took you so long?"

The older man looked around the room, exasperated. "What is it with you guys anyway that you're so curious about mine and Emily's love lives?" He noticed Morgan start to open his mouth and held up both hands, palms forward. "Emily and I are under no obligation to explain _anything_ to any of you. And in addition, we are under no obligation to answer any of your questions. Our personal lives are our own. So unless you have something to discuss about the case, I suggest _all _of you, Morgan especially, to refrain from interrogating either myself or Emily anymore about it."

"But Rossi…" Derek began. He stopped when Rossi shook a forefinger at him back-and-forth and a stern look on his face.

"I _said_ no comments unless it's about the case. _Capice?"_ he chastised the bald agent in a tone which said he wasn't joking. (1)

"C'mon, man, I didn't…"

"_I_ _said Capice?"_

Derek swallowed and shook his head. "Capice," he said in surrender. But to himself, he promised he'd find out the details later.

"Good. Now, I suggest we review everything so when Hotch comes back we'll be ready." He noticed Prentiss looking at him questioningly. "Just so you'll know, Hotch took a sketch artist and returned to the hospital to have a composite done of one of the shooters with McCoy's help. He said he'd be back in about two hours and wants us to wait here. So let's all be good boys and girls and get to work."

* * *

Hotch had moved a chair from against the wall, and placed it beside the chair in which Schiff was seated. The sketch artist, Danielle Tuscany, was seated on the edge of the bed so she could not only face McCoy, but allow him to get an unimpeded look at the composite as she worked on it. At the moment, she was busy making the necessary changes Jack had suggested. So far, they had been working for close to an hour.

Schiff had remained quiet while watching the sketch artist work. Hotch on the other hand, kept asking questions about the man McCoy had seen, which allowed Danielle to make the necessary changes to her sketch. Throughout everything, Jack kept his eyes focused on Hotch who smiled at him hoping to help his friend maintain his confidence.

"You're doing great, Jack," he said gently. "This is going to help tremendously, trust me."

Jack smiled. "I…trust you."

After making her latest change to the sketch, Danielle held it up so McCoy could see it. Jack swallowed the growing lump in his throat in an attempt to get a grip on his emotions.

"That's…him," he stammered nervously. "That's…the man…I saw. Except there…is one…thing missing."

Tuscany showed the sketch to Hotch who studied it up close. "Very good," he remarked before handing the sketchpad back to the woman. "Adam told me you remembered something else about this man after I left here earlier. Can you tell me what that something else is?"

"Had…a scar…embedded…right eyebrow."

"What did this scar look like, Jack?" asked Hotch wanting to clarify things.

"Looked like…a cross. It was…thin. Some hair…missing from…right eyebrow."

Nodding her head, Tuscany erased a small amount of hair from the right eyebrow before she made the necessary changes. Once finished, she held up her pad again so Jack could see if it was as he described.

"That's him," he admitted. "No doubt."

"Are you certain?" asked Hotch.

"Yes."

Hotch again took the pad from the artist and both he and Adam examined it. "We'll get it distributed tomorrow when we give the profile." The Unit Chief looked at the sketch artist. "Thanks for your assistance, Miss Tuscany. You did well."

"Glad to help, Agent Hotchner," she replied. "Do you need me for anything else?" He shook his head then ripped the page with the sketch off the sketchpad so he could take it with him, and handed the pad back to her. "You can wait for me outside in the corridor. When I'm done here I'll drive you back to the precinct."

"Yes, sir." Danielle got up and left the room to wait in the hallway for the agent.

Once the door closed, Hotch looked at both men.

"What happens next?" asked Schiff staring at Aaron.

"As I said, we'll hand it out to the police while giving the profile, and we'll release it to the public hoping somebody will recognize him. We'll also send a copy of this sketch to Garcia back in Quantico and have her run her facial recognition software."

"What does that do?" asked Schiff.

Hotch exhaled. "It's software we use which compares the photograph of a face with others in a database of photos and brings up the most likely match. We find this tool extremely helpful to us. This way we can cover a wider range."

McCoy left out a deep breath and stared at the agent. "Hotch, tell me…the truth."

"If I can. What is it?"

"What's…going on?"

The agent pursed his lips. "Jack, I can't tell you everything right now. But I can let you know this much. Your shooting is part of a conspiracy to shoot lead prosecutors who win cases they shouldn't have won to start with. Now we've determined that the other four attorneys who were killed suborned perjury to win their cases."

"I didn't…Herlihy," Jack protested. He was becoming agitated and both men could sense it.

"Take it easy, Jack," Adam said patting his friend's arm. "Nobody's saying you did. Am I right?" he asked looking at Hotch accusingly with that last question.

"He's right," Aaron replied. "I _know_ you didn't. But it's _possible_ that you won the case against Herlihy when you weren't suppose to despite trying the case honestly. We suspect something might not have been right about Herlihy's conviction despite you having the testimony of two detectives we know are honest, and evidence showing guilt. That leaves us with just one possibility. There was something wrong with the case from the beginning. And Jack, I suspect you know what that something is." He paused. "Believe me when I say _again_ that _you _personally didn't do anything wrong. But can you think of _anything_ that troubled you about this case against Jacob Herlihy either before or during the trial that neither you nor Miss Carmichael could prove one way or the other, so it was dismissed? _Anything _at all, no matter how inconsequential?"

Jack squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he struggled to recall his memory of the trial. For some unknown reason, he felt his mind trying to tell him something; something he couldn't put his finger on much less determine if it _was_ something.

"There was…something. At least…I think…there was."

"Can you recall what it was?" asked Schiff with narrowed eyes. He personally wasn't aware of any concern McCoy had either before or during the trial. At least none that the prosecutor had discussed with him.

Hotch looked at the district attorney. "Do you have any idea as to what it might be? Or did Jack tell you what it might be that was troubling him?"

Schiff shook his head, mystified. "No idea whatsoever. If there was something, neither Jack nor Miss Carmichael said anything to me. Sorry." Then an idea came to him. "Have you checked with Miss Carmichael?"

"We have, but we'll go over it with her again after we deliver the profile, and then take another look at the Herlihy file."

Facing McCoy again, Hotch suspected his friend was trying too hard to recall whatever it was. He smiled and patted the man's hand. "It's okay, Jack. If there is something and you recall it later, have Adam give me a call and let me know. Just don't try so hard. Let it come to you on its own." He checked his watch. "I really must leave. The team is waiting for me at the precinct and we need to review a few things before tomorrow." He bit his lower lip. "It's going to be all right, I promise. You've survived two attempts on your life. And I _promise_ whoever it is will not get to you again. Now get some rest."

* * *

Alone, Jack turned his head toward his boss, and noticed Schiff staring at him with tired eyes.

"What is it, Jack? What's wrong?" the older man asked sympathetically.

"Why can't I re…member? Something…bout Herlihy."

"Is it like Aaron said? Something troubled you about the Herlihy case before you went to trial? During the trial?"

"Don't know. Feels like…I should…re…member some…thing. But can't."

The district attorney patted his friend's arm again. "Like Aaron said, don't try and force it. It'll come to you in time."

"What if…it doesn't? What if…I never re…member?"

Schiff massaged his chin with his thumb and forefinger. He didn't want to even consider the possibility that Jack might _never_ remember what it was about the case that troubled him. Worse still, what if Abby couldn't remember anything either? Regardless, he didn't want to upset his ADA further.

"Maybe Aaron and Miss Carmichael can find something," he muttered. "When I called her earlier to update her on your condition, she told me there was something bothering her about the Herlihy case but she didn't know what. Said her gut wouldn't let it go despite the feds telling her Malcolm and Estelle Herlihy had nothing to do with your shooting. I'm sure she's already doing it, but if she isn't, I'll ask her to review Jacob Herlihy's file."

"Adam…case against…Herlihy…evi…dence good. Bris…coe…Curtis…honest. Didn't…sub…born…per…jury. I didn't."

Schiff grinned. "I know you didn't, and so does Aaron. You wouldn't. You'd rather lose a case than win using questionable testimony or tainted evidence."

"How can…you both…be so…sure? I mean…I know…I wouldn't. But how…can…"

Schiff chuckled. "Because we both know you, that's why. Now shut up and get some rest."

McCoy's face broke into a wide grin before he closed his eyes and allowed darkness to swallow him.

* * *

Lennie Briscoe was smiling like a Cheshire cat as he pulled out his chair and sat down behind his desk. He began working on his first report, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he spotted Rey Curtis approach his own desk which faced his, pull out his chair, and sit down. He faced his partner with arched eyebrows after seeing the expression on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked the senior detective.

"Cause I got me a date for after this case is over," Briscoe replied with a wide grin.

"Oh? With who? That brunette federal agent? I've seen how you've been checking her out."

"Hey, her name's Emily Prentiss. And she's a real knockout or haven't you noticed?"

Curtis smirked. "I'm a married man, Lennie."

"So is that Agent Jareau," Briscoe quipped. "Or are you gonna tell me you haven't noticed how pretty she is either."

Curtis chuckled and shook his head. "I already told you. I'm married."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Briscoe repeated as his eyes scanned the report in his hand.

Rey smirked. "So, this agent Prentiss agreed to go out with an old man like you?" he joked. He liked his partner a lot and enjoyed teasing him. In fact, Briscoe enjoyed teasing Curtis about how young his partner was compared to his previous partner, Mike Logan. (2)

"Hey, don't knock it. Even us old guys can get lucky. And despite what you youngsters may think, us old guys do have something to offer a young lady. And trust me, Emily Prentiss is a real lady who I think is use to the finer things in life. I mean, she is the daughter of an Ambassador, y'know." Briscoe looked up. "Now, I may not be able to show her the finer things in life like a rich man might, but I can still show her a good time. How about you? You make any headway with that pretty blonde agent Jareau?"

"Naaa. She knew I didn't intend to repeat the same mistake I made before that nearly cost me my marriage. And she made it quite clear she's faithful to her husband. Did you know her husband's a detective?"

"No kiddin'." This time it was Briscoe who arched his eyebrows.

"Yeah. They met when her team was in the French Quarter helping with a case. One thing led to another, and before long he quit the New Orleans Police Department, moved to Quantico, Virginia, and they got married. They also have two sons, ages three and one."

Briscoe chuckled. "Around the same age as two of your girls," he said.

Rey exhaled deeply as thoughts of his three daughters permeated his head. "Yeah," he concurred with a smile.

Briscoe, grinning, studied his partner's face. "So you and the beautiful JJ will just be friends, eh?"

Curtis shrugged and ran a hand over his thick dark hair. "I guess so. But after talking with her, she's an okay lady. I mean, I can talk with her without her prejudging me. And she's smart as well as pretty. Hey, before I forget. Did you and Agent Prentiss have any luck when you searched the jury room?"

"Matter of fact we did. We found a small listening device under the table in the jury room. Then, we decided to check out how the shooter got into the courtroom without attracting attention. Get this, looks like he was dressed as a bailiff."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. We managed to find a bailiff's uniform stuffed in a trashcan. We bagged it and gave it to Forensics. Funny thing is that uniform had rips in both armpit areas like it was either worn out or too small for the guy. Also, the seams along both sides were stretched as well."

* * *

(1) Capice, in Italian, means 'do you understand?'

(2) Chris Noth (Mike Logan) whom I met in person, starred in L&O with Jerry Orbach (whom I also met when he was on Broadway) from 1992-1995. Noth had been with the show from its first season in 1990 until he left in 1995.


	30. Chapter 30

**Death and Chaos in Court**

**Chapter 30**

To those who have followed this story faithfully, I'm so sorry this story has been updated so infrequently since I last posted a chapter. And this is not a chapter by any means. But I wanted people to know I have not abandoned this story in any way. It's just that I have been having repeated serious problems with my laptop which I discovered is slowly dying because of its age, and cannot be fixed nor saved. Also, I have Windows 7 which is going to develop technical problems as of January 14, 2020, so I must backup everything. Also, I cannot buy a new laptop with Windows 10 until I get my tax refund in February, 2020. Therefore, I decided to not update this story nor my Criminal Minds story on my CM site until I get my new laptop. But I PROMISE both these stories will be completed.


End file.
